$reat  Wife  frlbe 

in 


yilipinia 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OB 

Clark  J.  Hilliron 


FILIPINJA 


The  Great  White  Tribe 
in  Filipinia 

By 
PAUL  T.  GILBERT 


CINCINNATI:    JENNINGS   AND    PYE 
NEW    YORK:    EATON  AND    MAINS 


Copyright,  1903,  by 
Jennings  and  Pye 


PREFACE 


THE  legendary  white  tribe  that  is  said  to  wander  in 
the  mountains  of  Mindoro  is  but  distantly  related  to  the 
Great  White  Tribe  now  scattered  through  the  greater 
part  of  Filipinia.  Extending  from  the  Babuyanes  off 
Luzon,  to  Tawi-Tawi  and  Sibutu  off  the  coast  of  Borneo, 
the  Great  White  Tribe  has  made  its  presence  felt 
throughout  the  archipelago. 

The  following  pages  are  the  record  of  my  own  Im- 
pressions and  experiences  in  the  Philippines.  The  few 
historical  and  geographical  allusions  made  have  been 
selected  only  as  they  were  significant,  explanatory, 
picturesque.  A  logical  arrangement  of  the  chapters  will 
enable  the  reader  to  survey  the  islands  as  a  great  bird 
hovering  above  might  do — will  make  the  map  of  Filipinia 
"look  like  a  postage-stamp." 

I  promise  that  the  reader  shall  be  introduced  to  all 
the  most  important  members  of  the  Great  White  Tribe, 
as  well  as  to  the  representatives  of  races  brown  and 
black.  We  will  peep  through  the  hedge  together  as  the 

3 

825839 


4  PREFACE. 

savages  and  pagans  execute  their  grotesque  dances  or 
perform  their  sacrifices  to  the  god  of  the  volcano. 
Furthermore,  the  reader  shall  attend  the  Oroquieta  Ball 
with  Maraquita  and  Don  Julian,  or,  if  he  likes,  with 
"  Foxy  Grandpa"  and  "The  Arizona  Babe." 

I  ought  to  dedicate  this  book  to  many  people, — to 
that  wonderful  brown  baby  Primitive,  who  has  written 
that  he  "loves  me  the  most  best  of  all  the  world;"  to 
"  Fresno  Bill,"  that  charter  member  of  the  Great  White 
Tribe,  with  whom  I  have  knocked  around  from  Zamboanga 
to  Vigan ;  or  to  that  coterie  of  college  men  in  old  Manila 
who  extended  me  so  many  courtesies  while  I  was  there. 
I  send  them  all  my  compliments  from  the  homeland, 
and  ask  the  reader,  if  he  will,  to  do  likewise. 

CINCINNATI,  OHIO, 

December,  1903. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I.    In  Old  Manila,  9 

II.   All  About  the  Town,    -  23 

III.  The  White  Man's  Life,  -       36 

IV.  Around  the  Provinces,  50 
V.    On  Summer  Seas,  67 

VI.    Among  the  Pagan  Tribes,     -  80 

VII.    A  Lost  Tribe  and  the  Servants  of 

Mohammed,  -       97 

VIII.    In  a  Viscayan  Village,  121 

IX.    The  "  Brownies "  of  the  Philippines,  -  -     142 

X.    Christmas  in  Filipinia,  150 

XI.    In  a  Viscayan  Home,       -  -     163 

XII.    Leaves  from  a  Note-book,    -  181 

1.  Skim  Organizes  the  Constabulary,  -     181 

2.  Last  Days  at  Oroquieta,    -  195 

XIII.    In  Camp  and  Barracks  with  the  Officers 

and  Soldiers  of  the  Philippines,  -  -     223 
5 


6  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

XIV.  Padre    Pedro,    Recoleto    Priest.— The 

Routine  of  a  Friar  in  the  Philippines,  -  236 

XV.  General  Rufino  in  the  Moro  Country,  -  254 

XVI.  On  the  Iligan-Marahui  Road,  270 

XVII.  The  Filipino  at  Play,  280 

XVIII.  Viscayan  Ethics  and  Philosophy,    -          -  292 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Map  of  Filipinia,  -      Frontispiece 

Facing 
Page 

In  Old  Manila,  8 

All  About  the  Town,     -  26 

On  Summer  Seas,        -  68 
Negrito  Pigmy  Vagrants,                                        -       98 

Our  Latest  Citizens,     -  120 

In  a  Viscayan  Village,      -  128 

A  Carabao,  144 

The  Oldest  Cathedral  of  Manila,  238 
General  Rufino  in  Moro  Country, 


256 
Captain  Isidro  Rillas  with  the  Datto, 

A  Deserted  Moro  Shack, 

-     274 
Moro  Weapons  (Spear  and  Dirk), 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  OLD  MANILA. 

As  THE  big  white  transport  comes  to  anchor 
three  miles  out  in  the  green  waters  of  Manila  Bay, 
a  fleet  of  launches  races  out  to  meet  the  messen- 
ger from  the  Far  West.  The  customs  officers  in 
their  blue  uniforms,  the  medical  inspectors,  and 
the  visitors  in  white  duck  suits  and  panama  hats, 
taking  their  ease  upon  the  launches  without  the 
slightest  sign  of  curiosity,  give  one  his  first  im- 
pressions of  the  Oriental  life — the  white  man's 
easy-going  life  in  the  Far  East.  But  the  ideas 
of  the  newcomer  are  to  undergo  a  change  after  his 
first  few  days  on  shore,  when  he  takes  up  the 
grind,  and  realizes  that  his  face  is  getting  pasty 
— that  the  cool  veranda  and  the  drive  on  the 
Luneta  do  not  constitute  the  entire  program,  even 
in  Manila. 

Unwieldy  lighters  and  strange-looking  cas- 
cos  now  surround  the  transport,  and  the  new  ar- 
rival sees  the  Filipino  for  the  first  time.  Under 

9 


io  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

the  woven  helmet  of  the  nearest  casco  squats  a 
shriveled  woman,  one  of  the  witches  from  Mac- 
beth, stirring  a  blackened  pot  of  rice,  A  game- 
cock struggles  at  his  tether  in  the  stern,  while  the 
deck  amidships  swarms  with  wiry  brown  men, 
with  bristling  pompadours  and  feet  like  rubber, 
with  wide-spreading  toes.  With  unintelligible 
cries  they  crowd  the  gunwale,  spurning  the  iron 
hull  of  the  transport  with  long  billhooks,  as  the 
heavy  swell  sucks  out  the  water,  leaving  the 
streaming  sluices  and  the  great  red  hull  exposed, 
and  threatening  at  the  inrush  of  the  sea  to  bump 
the  casco  soundly  against  the  solid  iron  plates  of 
the  larger  ship.  A  most  disreputable-looking 
crew  it  is,  the  ragged  trousers  rolled  up  to  the 
knee,  the  network  shirts,  or  cotton  blouses  full 
of  holes  drawn  down  outside.  Highly  excitable, 
and  yet  good-natured  as  they  work,  they  take  pos- 
session and  disgorge  the  ship,  while  Chinamen 
descend  the  hatchways  after  dirty  clothes. 

Off  in  the  hazy  distance  lies  Cavite,  or  "the 
port,"  with  its  white  mist  of  war  ships  lying  at 
anchor  where  the  stout  Dutch  galleons  rode,  in 
1647, to  attack  the  Spanish  caravels,  retiring  only 


IN  OLD  MANILA.  n 

after  the  Dutch  admiral  fell  wounded  mortally; 
where  later,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the  Spanish 
fleet  put  out  to  meet  the  white  armada,  the  grim 
battleships  of  Admiral  Dewey's  line.  Where  now 
the  lazy  sailing  vessels  and  the  blackened  tramps 
are  anchored,  lay,  in  1593,  the  hostile  Chinese 
junks,  with  the  barbaric  eye  daubed  on  the  bows, 
the  gunwales  bristling  with  iron  cannon  that  had 
scorned  the  typhoons  of  the  China  Sea  and  gath- 
ered in  Manila  Bay. 

This  bay  has  been  the  scene  of  history- 
making  since  the  sixteenth  century.  Soon  after 
the  flotilla  of  Legaspi  landed  the  first  Spanish 
settlers  on  the  crescent  beach  around  Manila 
Bay,  the  little  garrison  was  put  to  test  by  the  in- 
vasion of  the  Chinese  pirate,  Li  Ma  Hong.  The 
memory  of  that  brave  defense  in  which  the  Span- 
iards routed  the  Mongolian  invader,  even  the  dis- 
aster of  that  first  of  May  can  never  drown.  In 
1582  the  little  fleet  put  out  against  the  Japanese 
corsair,  Taifusa,  and  returned  Victorious.  In 
1610  the  fleet  of  the  Dutch  pirates  was  destroyed 
off  Mariveles.  Those  were  stirring  days  when, 
but  a  few  years  later,  the  armada  of  Don  Juan  de 


12  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Silva  left  Manila  Bay  again  to  test  the  mettle  of 
the  Dutch.  Another  naval  encounter  with  the 
Dutch  resulted  in  a  victory  for  Spanish  arms  in 
1620  in  San  Bernardino  Straits.  And  off  Corre- 
gidor,  whose  blue  peak  marks  the  entrance  to 
Manila  Bay,  the  Dutchmen  were  again  defeated 
by  the  galleons  of  Don  Geronimo  de  Silva.  Now, 
near  the  Cavite  shore,  is  seen  the  twisted  wreck  of 
one  of  the  ill-fated  men  of  war  that  went  down 
under  the  intolerable  fire  from  Dewey's  broad- 
sides. And  in  1899  the  Spanish  transports  left 
Manila  Bay  forever  under  the  command  of  Don 
Diego  de  los  Rios,  with  the  remnant  of  the  Span- 
ish troops  aboard. 

The  city  of  Manila  lies  in  a  broad  crescent, 
with  its  white  walls  and  the  domes  of  churches 
glowing  in  the  sun.  On  landing  at  the  Anda  mon- 
ument, you  find  the  gray  walls  and  the  moss- 
grown  battlements  of  the  old  garrison — a  winding 
driveway  leading  across  the  swampy  moat  and 
disappearing  through  the  mediaeval  city  gate. 
This  portion  of  Manila,  laid  out  in  the  sixteenth 
century  by  De  Legaspi,  occupies  the  territory  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Pasig  River  at  the  mouth. 


IN  Ou>  MANILA.  13 

the  frowning  walls  of  the  Cur  at  el  de  Santiago 
loom  above  the  bustling  river  opposite  the  cus- 
toms-house. 

Here,  where  the  young  American  army  offi- 
cers look  out  expectantly  for  the  arrival  of  the 
transport  that  is  to  bring  them  their  promotions, 
or  to  take  them  home,  Geronimo  de  Silva  was 
confined  for  not  pursuing  the  Dutch  vessels  after 
the  sea  fight  off  Corregidor.  The  crumbling  walls 
still  whisper  of  intrigue  and  secrecy.  The  fort 
was  built  in  1587,  and  became  the  base  of  opera- 
tions, not  only  against  the  pirate  fleets  of  the 
Chinese,  the  Moros,  and  the  Dutch,  but  also  in 
the  riots  of  the  Chinese  and  the  Japanese  that 
broke  out  frequently  in  the  old  days.  At  one  time 
twenty  thousand  Chinamen  were  beaten  back  by 
an  alliance  of  the  Spaniards,  Japanese,  and  na- 
tives. On  this  historic  ground  the  treaty  was 
made  in  1570  between  the  Spaniards  and  the  rajas 
of  Manila,  Soliman  and  Lacandola.  The  walls 
survived  the  fire  of  1603.  The  earthquake  causing 
the  evacuation  of  Manila  could  not  shake  them. 
Another  prisoner  of  state,  Corcuera,  who  had 
fought  the  Moros  in  the  Jolo  Archipelago,  was 
2 


14  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

locked  up  in  the  Cuartel  de  Santiago  at  the  in- 
stance of  his  Machiavellian  successor.  In  1642 
the  fort  was  strengthened  by  additional  artillery 
because  of  an  expected  visit  from  the  Dutch.  To- 
day a  soldier  in  a  khaki  uniform  mounts  guard  at 
the  street  entrance.  The  courtyard  is  adorned  by 
pyramids  of  cannon-balls  and  tidy  rows  of  bonga- 
trees.  The  soldiers'  quarters  line  the  avenue  on 
either  side,  and  bugle-calls  resound  where  for- 
merly was  heard  the  call  of  the  night  watchman. 
A  number  of  elaborate  but  narrow  passages 
— dim,  gloomy  archways,  where  the  chain  and 
windlass  stand  dust-covered  from  disuse — connect 
the  walled  town  with  the  extra-muros  sections. 
The  Puerto  del  Parian,  on  the  Ermita  side,  is  one 
of  the  most  imposing  of  these  gates.  Near  the 
botanical  gardens  on  the  boulevard,  at  the  small 
booth  where  Juliana  sells  cigars  and  bottled  soda, 
following  the  turnpike  over  the  moat,  you  come 
to  the  Parian  gate,  crowned  by  the  Spanish  arms, 
in  crumbling  bas-relief.  Beyond  the  drawbridge 
— lowered  never  to  be  raised  again — where  rum- 
bling pony-carts  crowd  the  pedestrians  to  the  wall, 
the  passage  opens  into  gloomy  dungeons,  with 


IN  OLD  MANILA.  15 

barred  windows  looking  out  upon  the  stagnant 
waters  of  the  moat.  With  an  involuntary  shud- 
der, you  pass  on.  A  native  policeman,  in  an 
opera-bouffe  uniform,  stands  at  the  further  end 
in  order  to  dispatch  the  vehicles  that  can  not  pass 
each  other  in  the  narrow  gate.  Windowless,  yel- 
low walls,  upon  the  corners  of  the  streets,  make 
reckless  driving  very  dangerous,  and  collisions 
frequently  occur.  A  vacant  sentry-box  stands 
just  within  the  city  walls,  and,  turning  here  into 
the  long  street,  you  immediately  find  yourself 
in  an  old  Spanish  town. 

Here  the  grand  churches  and  the  public  build- 
ings are  located ;  the  cathedral,  after  the  Romano- 
Byzantine  style  of  architecture;  the  Palacio,  built 
after  Spanish  notions  of  magnificence,  around  a 
courtyard  shaded  by  rare  trees;  and  many  other 
edifices,  used  for  official  and  ecclesiastic  pur- 
poses. The  streets  are  paved  with  cobblestone 
and  laid  out  regularly  in  squares,  in  accordance 
with  the  plan  of  De  Legaspi,  so  that  one  side  or 
the  other  will  be  always  in  the  shade.  Beautiful 
plazas,  with  their  palms  and  statues,  frequently 
relieve  the  glare  of  the  white  walls.  The  side- 


16  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

walks  are  narrow,  and  are  sheltered  by  projecting 
balconies. 

The  heavily-barred  windows,  ponderous  doors, 
and  quaint  signboards  give  the  streets  an  old- 
world  aspect,  while  Calk  Real  is  spanned  by 
an  arched  gallery,  like  the  Venetian  Bridge  of 
Sighs.  Tailor-shops,  laundries,  restaurants,  and 
barber-shops,  where  swinging  punkas  waft  the 
odor  of  bay  rum  through  open  doors,  suggest  a 
scene  from  some  forgotten  story-book  or  the 
stage-setting  for  an  Elizabethan  play.  In  the 
commercial  streets  the  absence  of  show-windows 
will  be  noticed.  Bookstores  display  their  wares 
on  stands  outside,  while  of  the  contents  of  the 
other  shops,  one  can  obtain  no  adequate  idea  until 
he  enters  through  the  open  doors.  The  interest- 
ing signboards,  whether  they  can  be  interpreted 
or  not,  tend  to  excite  the  curiosity.  "Los  Dos 
Hermanos"  (The  Two  Brothers)  is  a  tailor-shop, 
a  Sastreria;  and  the  shoestore  a  Zapateria.  The 
family  grocery-store,  Hi  Globo,  is  advertised  by 
a  huge  globe,  battered  from  long  years  of  service ; 
and  La  Lira,  or  the  music-store,  may  be  known 
by  the  sign  of  the  gold  lyre. 


IN  OLD  MANILA.  17 

These  streets  have  been  the  scene  of  many  a 
drama  in  the  past.  Earthquakes  in  1645,  in  1863, 
and  1880,  caused  great  loss  of  life  and  property. 
The  plague  broke  out  in  1628,  when  Spaniards, 
Filipinos,  and  Chinese  were  swept  off  indiscrimi- 
nately. Later,  epidemics  of  smallpox  and  cholera 
have  made  a  prison  and  a  pesthouse  of  Manila. 
Only  in  1902  the  city  suffered  from  a  run  of  chol- 
era, and  the  Americans,  in  spite  of  all  precautions, 
could  not  stop  the  spread  of  the  disease.  The 
streets  were  flushed  at  night;  districts  of  native 
houses  were  put  to  the  torch,  and  the  detention- 
camp  was  full  of  suffering  humanity.  The  na- 
tives, in  their  ignorance,  went  through  the  streets 
in  long  processions,  carrying  the  images  of  saints, 
chanting,  and  burning  candles,  and  at  night  would 
throw  the  bodies  of  the  dead  into  the  river  or  the 
canal.  The  ships  lay  wearily  at  quarantine  out  in 
the  bay,  and  the  chorus  of  bells  striking  the  hour 
at  night  was  heard  over  the  quiet  waters.  Officers 
patrolled  the  streets,  inspected  drains  and  cess- 
pools where  the  filth  of  ages  had  collected,  giving 
the  forgotten  corners  of  Manila  such  a  cleaning  as 
they  never  had  received  before. 


i8  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

But  there  were  days  of  triumph  and  rejoicing 
— days  such  as  had  come  to  Greece  and  Rome ;  days 
when  the  level  of  life  was  raised  to  heights  of  in- 
spiration. Not  only  have  the  streets  re-echoed  to 
the  martial  music  of  the  victorious  Americans 
when  Governor  Taft  or  the  vice-governor  were 
welcomed,  but  the  town  had  rung  with  shouts  of 
triumph  when  provincial  troops  had  come  back 
from  the  conquest  of  barbarians,  or  when  the 
fleets  returned  from  victories  over  the  Dutch  and 
English  and  the  Moro  pirates  of  the  southern 
archipelago.  And  the  streets  reverberated  to  the 
sound  of  drum  and  trumpet  when,  in  1662,  the 
special  companies  of  guards  were  organized  to 
put  down  the  rebellion  of  the  Chinese  in  the  sub- 
urbs. But  in  1762  the  town  capitulated  to  the 
English,  and  the  occupation  by  Americans  more 
than  a  century  later,  was  a  repetition  of  the  scenes 
enacted  then. 

Because  of  the  volcanic  condition  of  the  island, 
the  houses  can  not  be  built  more  than  two  stories 
high.  The  ground  floor  is  of  stone,  and  contains, 
besides  the  storehouse  or  a  suite  of  living  rooms, 


IN  OLD  MANILA.  19 

the  stables,  arranged  around  a  tiled  courtyard, 
where  the  carriages  are  washed.  A  broad  stair- 
way conducts  to  the  main  corridor  above.  The 
floor,  of  polished  hardwood,  is  uncarpeted  and 
scrupulously  clean.  Each  morning  the  muchachos 
(house-boys)  mop  the  floor  with  kerosene,  skating 
around  the  room  on  rags  tied  to  their  feet,  or 
pushing  a  piece  of  burlap  on  all  fours  across  the 
floor.  The  walls  are  frescoed  pink  and  blue;  the 
ceiling  is  .often  of  painted  canvas.  The  windows, 
fitted  with  translucent  shell  in  tiny  squares,  slide 
back  and  forth,  so  that  the  balcony  can  be  thrown 
open  to  the  light.  Double  walls,  making  an  alcove 
on  one  side,  keep  out  the  heat  of  the  ascending  or 
descending  sun.  The  balcony  at  evening  is  a 
favorite  resort,  and  visitors  are  entertained  in 
open  air.  In  the  interior  arrangement  of  the 
houses,  little  originality  is  shown,  the  Spaniards 
having  insisted  upon  merely  formal  principles 
of  art.  The  stiff  arrangement  of  the  chairs,  fac- 
ing each  other  in  precise  rows,  as  if  a  conclave 
were  about  to  be  held,  does  not  invite  conviviality. 
There  are  few  pictures  on  the  walls, — a  faded 


20  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

chromo,  possibly,  in  a  gilt  frame,  representing 
some  old-fashioned  prospect  of  Madrid,  or  the 
tinted  portrait  of  the  royal  family. 

The  Spanish  residents  and  the  mestizos  en- 
tertain with  great  politeness  and  formality.  Five 
o'clock  is  the  fashionable  hour  for  visiting,  as 
earlier  in  the  afternoon  the  family  is  liable  to  be 
in  negligee.  The  Spanish  women,  in  loose,  morn- 
ing gowns,  or  blouses,  and  in  flapping  slippers, 
present  a  rather  slovenly  appearance  during  morn- 
ing hours;  also  the  children,  in  their  "union" 
suits,  split  up  the  back,  impress  the  stranger  as 
untidy.  During  the  noon  siesta  everybody  goes  to 
sleep,  to  come  to  life  late  in  the  afternoon.  At 
eight  o'clock  the  chandelier  is  lighted  and  the 
evening  meal  is  served.  This  is  a  very  formal 
dinner,  consisting  of  innumerable  courses  of  the 
same  thing  cooked  in  different  styles.  A  glass  of 
tinto  wine,  a  glass  of  water,  and  a  toothpick  whit- 
tled by  the  loving  hands  of  the  muchacho, 
finishes  the  meal.  The  kitchen  is  located  in  the 
rear,  and  generally  overlooks  the  court,  and  near 
by  are  the  bathroom  and  the  laundry. 

In  the  walled  citv  small  hotels  are  numerous, 


IN  OLD  MANILA.  21 

their  entry-ways  well  banked  with  potted  palms. 
The  usual  stone  courtyard,  damp  with  water,  is 
surrounded  by  the  pony-stalls,  where  dirty  stable- 
boys  go  through  their  work  mechanically,  smok- 
ing cigarettes.  The  dining-room  and  office  occupy 
most  of  the  second  floor.  This  is  the  library,  re- 
ception-room, and  ladies'  parlor,  all  in  one;  the 
guest-rooms  open  into  this  apartment.  These  are 
very  small,  containing  a  big  Spanish  tester-bed, 
with  a  cane  bottom,  and  the  other  necessary  fur- 
niture. The  sliding  windows  open  out  into  the 
street  or  the  attractive  courtyard,  and  the  room 
reminds  you  somewhat  of  an  opera-box.  My  own 
room  looked  out  at  the  hospital  of  San  Jose,  where 
a  big  clock,  rather  weatherbeaten,  tolled  the  hours. 
Manila  to-day,  however,  is  a  contradiction. 
Striking  anachronisms  occur  from  the  confusion 
of  Malayan,  Asiatic,  European,  and  American 
traditions.  Heavy  escort-wagons,  drawn  by  tow- 
ering army  mules,  crowd  to  the  wall  the  fragile 
guiles  and  the  carromata  (two-wheeled  gigs), 
with  their  tough  native  ponies.  Tall  East  In- 
dians, in  their  red  turbans ;  Armenian  merchants, 
soldiers  in  khaki  uniforms,  and  Chinese  coolies 


22  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

bending  under  heavy  loads,  jostle  each  other  un- 
der the  projecting  balconies,  while  Filipinos  shuf- 
fle peacefully  along  the  curb. 

The  new  American  saloons  look  rather  out  of 
place  in  such  a  curious  environment,  and  telegraph 
wires  concentrated  at  the  city  wall  seem  even  more 
incongruous. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ALI,  ABOUT  THE  TOWN. 

THE  wide  streets  radiating  from  the  Bridge  of 
Spain  are  lined  with  lemonade  stands,  where  the 
cube  of  ice  is  sheltered  from  the  sun  by  striped 
awnings.  Leaving  the  walled  town  on  the  river 
side — the  gate  has  been  destroyed  by  earthquakes 
—you  can  take  the  ferry  over  to  the  Tondo  side. 
The  ferryboat  is  a  round-bottomed,  wobbly  sam- 
pan, with  a  tiny  cabin  in  the  stern.  You  crouch 
down,  waiting  for  the  boat  to  roll  completely  over, 
which  at  first  it  seems  inclined  to  do,  or  try  to  plan 
some  method  of  escape  in  case  the  pilot  gets  in 
front  of  one  of  the  swift-moving  tugs.  You  have 
good  reason  to  congratulate  yourself  on  being 
landed  at  a  stone-quay  in  a  tangle  of  small 
launches,  ferryboats,  and  cascoes.  The  Tondo 
Canal  may  be  crossed  on  a  covered  barge,  poled 
by  an  ancient  boatman,  who  collects  the  fares — 
a  copper  cent  of  Borneo,  Straits  Settlements,  or 

23 


24  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Hong  Kong  coinage — much  in  the  same  way  as 
the  pilot  of  the  Styx  collects  the  obolus. 

Under  the  long  porch  of  the  customs-house, 
a  dummy  engine  noisily  plies  up  and  down  among 
the  long-horned  carabaos  and  piles  of  merchan- 
dise. Types  of  all  nations  are  encountered  here. 
The  immigration  office  swarms  with  Chinamen 
herded  together,  rounded  up  by  some  contractor. 
Every  Chinaman  must  have  his  photograph,  his 
number,  and  description  in  the  immigration  offi- 
cer's possession.  Indian  merchants,  agents  of  the 
German,  Spanish,  and  English  business  firms  are 
looking  after  new  invoices.  A  party  of  American 
tourists,  just  arrived  from  China,  are  awaiting 
the  inspection  of  their  baggage. 

The  Bridge  of  Spain,  that  famous  artery  of 
commerce,  over  which  a  stream  of  carabao-carts. 
crowded  tram-cars,  pleasure  vehicles,  and  army 
wagons  flows  continuously,  spans  the  Pasig  River 
at  the  head  of  the  Escolta  in  Binondo.  Here  the 
bazaars  and  European  business  houses  are  located, 
while  the  avenues  that  branch  off  lead  to  other 
populous  and  swarming  districts.  La  Extrameiia, 
a  grocery  and  wine-store ;  La  Estrella  del  Norte — 


ABOUT  THE  TOWN.  25 

"The  North  Star" — diamond  and  jewelry-store; 
the  Sombreria,  hatstore,  advertised  by  a  huge 
wooden  hat  hung  out  above  the  street;  and  a 
tobacco  booth,  are  situated  on  the  corners  where 
the  bridge  and  the  Escolta  meet.  The  Metro- 
politan policeman — one  of  the  tall  Americanos  uni- 
formed in  khaki  riding-breeches  and  stiff  leggings 
—who,  in  former  days,  controlled  the  traffic  of  the 
street,  is  now  supplanted  by  a  Filipino  comic-opera 
policeman.  Very  few  of  the  old  "Mets"  are  left. 
It  was  a  body  of  picked  men,  the  finest  soldiers 
in  the  volunteer  troops,  and  the  most  efficient  po- 
lice force  in  the  world.  This  officer  on  the  Escolta 
used  to  be  a  genius  in  his  line.  When  balky  Fili- 
pino ponies  blocked  the  traffic  in  the  crowded 
thoroughfare,  it  was  this  officer  that  straightened 
out  the  tangle.  If  the  tram-car  happened  to  run  off 
the  track,  it  was  the  "Met"  who  showed  the  driver 
how  to  put  it  on  again. 

The  river  above  the  bridge  is  lined  with  lat- 
ticed balconies ;  but  from  the  veranda  of  the  Paris 
Restaurant,  when  that  establishment  was  in  its 
glory,  one  could  sit  for  hours  and  watch  the  bust- 
ling river  life  below.  The  thatched  tops  of  the 


26  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

huddled  cascos  formed  a  compact  roof  that  ex- 
tended half  across  the  stream.  Upon  these  nonde- 
script craft  hundreds  of  Filipinos  dwelt,  doing 
their  washing  and  their  cooking  on  the  decks 
The  scanty  clothes  are  hanging  out  to  dry  on  lines, 
while  naked  brats  are  splashing  in  the  dirty  water, 
clinging  to  the  tightened  hawser. 

Launches  go  scudding  under  the  low  bridge, 
rending  the  air  with  vicious  toots.  Unwieldly 
cascos  are  poled  down  the  river,  laden  heavily  with 
cocoanuts  and  hemp.  Small  floating  islands  whirl 
along  in  the  swift  current,  and  are  carried  out  to 
sea.  At  the  Muelle  del  Rey — the  "King's  Dock" 
— lie  the  inter-island  steamers,  and  the  gangs  of 
laborers  are  busy  loading  and  unloading  them. 
Carabao  drays  are  hauling  fragrant  cargoes  of  to- 
bacco and  Manila  hemp,  while  over  the  gangplank 
runs  a  chain  of  men,  gutting  the  warehouse  of  its 
merchandise.  The  captain  of  the  Romulus  stands 
on  the  bridge,  daintily  smoking  a  cigarette,  and 
supervising  the  disposal  of  the  demijohns  of  tinto 
wine.  The  derrick  keeps  up  an  incessant  racket 
as  the  hold  is  gradually  filled.  Although  the 
Romulus  is  advertised  to  sail  to-day  at  noon,  she  is 


Au,  ABOUT  THE;  TOWN.  27 

as  liable  to  sail  at  ten  o'clock,  or  possibly  to-mor- 
row afternoon;  and  although  bound  for  Iloilo  or 
Cebu,  you  can  not  be  at  all  sure  what  her  destina- 
tion really  is.  She  may  return  after  a  month 
from  a  long  rambling  cruise  among  the  southern 
isles.  The  Spanish  mariners,  in  rakish  Tam  o' 
Shanter  caps,  lounge  at  the  entrance  to  the  ware- 
house, or  the  office  of  the  Compania  Maritima, 
dreamily  smoking  cigarettes,  sometimes  imperi- 
ously ordering  the  laborers  to  "sigue,  hombre!" 
(get  along!)  a  warning  that  the  Filipino  has 
grown  too  familiar  with  to  heed. 

Armenian  and  Indian  bazaars,  where  ivory 
and  the  rich  fabrics  of  the  Orient  are  sold ;  cafes 
and  drugstores,  harness-shops,  tobacco-shops,  and 
drygoods-stores,  emporiums  of  every  kind, — are 
found  on  the  Escolta,  where  the  prices  would  as- 
tonish any  one  not  yet  accustomed  to  the  manners 
of  the  Far  East.  During  the  morning  hours  the 
quilez  and  the  carromata  rattle  along  the  bumpy 
cobblestones,  the  native  driver,  or  cochero,  in  a 
white  shirt,  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  resting  his 
bare  feet  upon  the  dashboard.  Behind  the  curtain 
of  a  passing  quilez  you  can  catch  a  glimpse  of 
3 


28  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

brown  eyes,  raven  hair,  and  olive-tinted  cheeks, 
displayed  with  all  the  coquetry  of  a  Manila  belle. 
A  Filipino  family  in  a  rickety  cart,  tilted  at  an  im- 
possible angle,  are  drawn  by  a  moth-eaten  pony, 
mostly  bones.  Public  conveyances — if  these  are 
not  indeed  a  myth — are  most  exasperating.  You 
can  never  find  one  when  you  want  it,  even  at  the 
"Public  Carriage  Station."  If  by  chance  you  come 
across  one  in  the  street,  the  driver  will  ignore  your 
signal  and  drive  on.  Evidently  he  selects  this 
walk  in  life  merely  to  discharge  the  obligations 
of  his  conscience,  for  he  never  seems  to  want  a 
passenger,  nor  will  he  take  one  till  he  finds  his 
vehicle  possessed  by  strategy.  The  gamins  of  the 
corner  offer  eagerly  to  find  a  carromata  for  you, 
but  they  frequently  forget  the  object  of  their  mis- 
sion in  their  search.  Sometimes,  when  you  have 
ceased  to  think  about  a  carromata,  one  of  these 
small  ragamuffins  will  pursue  you,  with  a  sheep- 
ish-looking coachman  and  disreputable  vehicle  in 
tow.  Then  twenty  boys  crowd  round  and  claim 
rewards  for  having  found  a  rig  for  you ;  as  they 
all  look  alike,  you  toss  a  ten-cent  piece  among  the 
crowd  and  let  them  fight  it  out  among  themselves. 


ABOUT  THE  TOWN.  29 

The  driver  will  begin  by  making  some  objec- 
tion. He  will  ask  to  be  discharged  at  noon,  or  he 
will  make  you  promise  not  to  turn  him  over  to  an- 
other Americano.  When  the  preliminary  arrange- 
ments are  completed,  lighting  his  cigarette,  he 
cramps  himself  up  in  the  box,  and,  maintaining  a 
continual  clucking,  larrups  his  skinny  pony  as  the 
crazy  gig  goes  rocking  down  the  street.  The 
driver  never  seems  to  know  the  town;  even  the 
post-office  and  the  Bridge  of  Spain  are  terra  in- 
cognita to  him.  And  so  you  guide  him,  saying 
"silla,"  left,  or  "mano,"  right,  "direcho,"  straight 
ahead,  and  "  'spera,"  stop.  You  must  be  careful 
when  you  stop,  however,  as  while  you  are  busy  with 
your  purchases,  your  man  is  liable  to  run  away. 
While,  as  a  general  rule,  he  shakes  his  head  at  the 
repeated  inquires  of  "ocupato?"  (taken?)  even 
though  the  carriage  may  not  be  engaged,  if  some 
one  more  unscrupulous  or  desperate  should  step 
in,  you  would  find  yourself  without  a  rig.  And 
the  result  would  be  the  same  if  dinner-time  came 
round,  and  he  had  not  had  "sow  sow."  Even  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  collected  any  fare  would  not 
deter  him  from  his  resolution. 


30  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that,  after  all  these 
difficulties,  no  complaint  is  made  against  the 
rickety,  slat-seated  carts,  with  wheels  that  seem 
to  bar  the  entrance  of  the  passenger;  against 
the  sorry-looking  quilez, — that  attenuated  two- 
wheeled  'bus,  where  the  four  passengers  must 
sit  with  interwoven  legs,  getting  the  more  im- 
plicated as  the  cart  goes  bounding  on?  No; 
the  Americans  are  glad  enough  to  ride  in  al- 
most any  kind  of  vehicle.  But  you  must  be  good- 
natured,  even  though  the  cab  is  tilted  at  an  angle 
of  some  thirty-odd  degrees,  and  even  though,  in 
getting  out,  which  is  accomplished  from  the  quilez 
in  the  rear,  you  lift  the  tiny  pony  off  his  feet. 
It  is  enough  to  take  the  breath  away  to  ride  in  one 
of  these  conveyances  through  the  congested  por- 
tions of  Manila.  Not  only  does  the  turning  to  the 
left  seem  strange,  but  taking  the  sharp  corners 
— an  accomplishment  for  which  the  two-wheeled 
gig  is  well  adapted — frequently  comes  near  pre- 
cipitating a  collision ;  and,  in  order  to  avoid  this, 
the  driver  pulls  the  pony  to  his  haunches.  When 
the  coast  is  clear,  you  will  go  rattling  merrily 
away,  the  quilez  door,  unfastened,  swinging  back 


ABOUT  THE  TOWN.  31 

and  forth  abandonedly,  regardless  of  appearances. 
It  is  impossible  to  satisfy  the  driver  on  discharg- 
ing him,  unless  by  paying  him  three  times  the  fee. 
The  stranger  in  Manila,  counting  out  the  unfa- 
miliar media  pesos  and  pesetas,  never  knows  when 
he  has  paid  enough.  Whether  to  pay  his  fifteen 
cents,  American  or  Mexican,  for  the  first  hour, 
and  ten  cents,  or  centavos,  for  the  hour  succeed- 
ing, and  how  many  media  pesetas  make  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  in  our  currency, — these  are  the  ques- 
tions that  annoy  and  puzzle  the  newcomer,  till  he 
learns  to  disregard  expense,  and  order  his  livery 
from  the  hotels  or  private  stables. 

At  noon  the  corrugated  iron  blinds  of  the 
shops  are  pulled  down ;  all  the  carriages  have  dis- 
appeared ;  the  only  sign  of  life  in  the  Escolta  is 
the  comical  little  tram-car,  loaded  down  with  lit- 
tle brown  men  dressed  in  white,  the  driver  tooting 
a  toy  horn,  and  all  the  passengers  dismounting  to 
assist  the  car  uphill. 

The  banking  center  of  Manila,  built  around  a 
dusty  plaza  in  the  Tondo  district,  and  consisting 
of  low  buildings  occupied  by  offices  of  shipping 
and  commercial  companies,  suggests  a  scene  from 


32  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

"The  Merchant  of  Venice"  or  "Othello."  English 
firms — such  as  Warner,  Barnes  &  Co. ;  Smith, 
Bell  &  Co. ;  the  Hong  Kong-Shanghai  Banking 
Corporation,  where  the  silver  pesos  jingle  as  the 
deft  clerks  stack  them  up  or  handle  them  with 
their  small  spades — are  situated  hereabouts. 

Near  by,  and  on  an  emerald  plaza,  stand  the 
buildings  of  the  Insular  Tobacco  Company  and  of 
the  Oriente  Hotel.  These  buildings  are  the  finest 
modern  structures  in  Manila.  Carriages  are  wait- 
ing in  the  street  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  at  the 
entrance  may  be  seen  a  group  of  army  officers  in 
khaki  uniform,  in  white  and  gold,  or — very  much 
more  modern — olive  drab.  The  dining-room  is 
entered  through  the  rustling  bead-work  curtain. 
Here  the  Chinese  waiters,  in  long  gowns  glide 
noiselessly  around. 

But  the  Rosario,  where  opium-saturated  China- 
men sit  tailor-fashion  at  the  entrance  to  their  little 
stalls — where  narrow  galleries  and  alleys  swarm 
with  Chinese  life — is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
and  complex  of  all  Manila's  thoroughfares.  On 
one  side  of  the  street  the  drygoods-shops  are 
shaded  from  the  sun  by  curtains  in  broad  stripes 


ALL  ABOUT  THE  TOWN.  33 

of  blue  and  white.  The  dreamy  merchant  sits 
barelegged  on  the  doorsill,  and  is  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  mere  entrance  of  a  purchaser.  The 
opposite  side  is  lined  with  China  hardware  stores, 
and  in  each  one  of  them  the  stock  is  just  the  same. 
These  shops  supply  the  stock  of  merchandise  to 
the  provincial  agents ;  for  an  intricate  feudal  sys- 
tem is  maintained  among  the  Chinese  of  the  archi- 
pelago. The  rich  Manila  merchants  who  have 
seen  their  fellow-countrymen  safe  through  from 
China,  and  have  furnished  goods  on  credit,  reap 
the  profits  like  so  many  Oriental  Shylocks. 

At  four  o'clock  the  shopping  begins  again  in 
the  Escolta.  Apparently  the  whole  town  has 
turned  out  for  a  ride.  Since  the  Americans  have 
come,  odd  sights  have  been  seen  in  Manila, — 
cavalry  horses  harnessed  to  pony  vehicles,  phae- 
tons drawn  by  Filipino  ponies,  and  victorias,  in- 
tended for  a  pair  of  native  horses,  hastily  con- 
verted into  surreys.  Not  only  do  the  Spanish 
wqmen  come  out  in  their  black  mantillas,  but  the 
Filipino  belles  and  the  mestizo  girls,  in  their  stiff 
dresses  of  jose  and  pitta  cloth.  A  carriage-load  of 
painted  cheeks  and  burnished  pompadours  of  Jap- 


34  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

anese  frail  sisterhood  drives  by  upon  its  way  to 
the  Luneta.  Army  officers  in  white  dress  uni- 
form, the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  officers, 
bareheaded  and  in  dainty  gowns,  stop  off  at 
Clark's  for  lemonade,  ice-cream,  and  candy.  Sol- 
diers and  sailors  strolling  along  the  street,  or  driv- 
ing rickety  native  carts,  enjoy  themselves  after  the 
manner  of  their  kind.  A  brace  of  well-kept  po- 
nies, tugging  like  game  fish,  trot  briskly  away 
with  jingling  harness,  with  the  coachman  and  the 
footman  dressed  in  white,  a  foreign  consul  loung- 
ing in  the  cushions  of  the  neat  victoria.  A  private 
carruaje,  drawn  by  a  sleek  pony,  hastens  along, 
the  tiny  footman  clinging  on  for  dear  life  to  the 
extension  seat  behind. 

After  the  whirl  on  the  Luneta,  where  the  mili- 
tary band  plays  as  the  oddly-assorted  carriages  go 
circling  round  like  fixtures  on  a  steam  carousal, 
the  pleasure-seekers  leave  the  driveway  on  the  sea 
deserted;  soldiers  and  citizens  vacate  the  green 
benches,  and  adjourn  for  dinner.  The  Spanish 
life  is  best  seen  at  the  Metropole,  where  senors, 
scnoritas,  and  senoras,  exquisitely  gowned,  sip 
cognac  and  coffee  at  the  little  tables,  carrying  on 


ABOUT  THE;  TOWN.  35 

an  animated  conversation,  with  expressive  flashes 
of  bright  eyes  or  gestures  with  elaborately- jeweled 
hands. 

Below,  in  the  Luzon  cafe,  the  Rizal  orchestra 
is  playing  the  impassioned  Spanish  waltzes,  "So- 
bre  las  Olas,"  "La  Paloma,"  to  the  click  of  billiard 
balls  and  the  guffaws  of  soldiers.  When  the  even- 
ing program  ends  with  "Dixie,"  every  soldier  in  a 
khaki  uniform — bronzed,  grizzled  fellows,  many 
of  them  back  from  some  campaign  out  in  the 
provinces — will  rise  immediately  to  his  feet,  re- 
spectfully remove  his  hat,  and  as  the  music  that 
reminds  him  of  the  home-land  swells  and  gathers 
volume,  fill  the  corridors  with  cheer  upon  cheer  as 
the  lights  are  put  out ;  then  the  sleeping  coachman 
rouses  himself,  and  starts  the  reluctant  pony  on 
the  journey  home. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE. 

IT  happened  that  my  first  home  in  Manila  was 
a  temporary  one,  shared  with  a  hundred  others, 
at  the  nipa  barracks  at  the  Exposition  grounds. 
Who  of  all  those  that  were  similarly  situated  will 
forget  the  long  row  of  mimosa-trees  that  made  a 
leafy  archway  over  the  cool  street;  or  the  fruit 
merchants  squatting  beside  the  bunches  of  bananas 
and  the  tiny  oranges  spread  out  upon  the  ground  ? 
There  was  the  pink  pavilion  where  that  enterpris- 
ing Chinaman,  Ah  Gong,  conducted  his  indifferent 
restaurant.  After  these  many  days  I  can  still  hear 
the  clatter  of  the  plates,  the  jingle  of  the  knives 
and  forks,  placed  on  the  tables  by  the  Chinese 
waiters.  There  was  the  crowd  on  the  veranda 
waiting  for  the  second  table,  opening  their  corre- 
spondence as  they  waited.  And  what  an  inde- 
scribable sensation  was  imparted  on  receiving  the 
first  letter  in  a  foreign  land ! 

The  long,  cool  barrack-rooms  were  swept  by 
36 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  37 

the  fresh  breezes.  Here,  in  the  bungalow,  the 
army  cots  had  been  arranged  in  rows  and  covered 
by  mosquito-bars  suspended  from  the  wires 
stretched  overhead.  When  tucked  inside  of  the 
mosquito-bar,  one  felt  as  though  he  were  a  part 
of  a  menagerie.  "Muchacho"  was  the  first  new 
word  you  learned.  It  was  advisable  to  call  for  a 
muchacho  often,  even  though  you  did  not  need  his 
services,  in  order  to  exploit  your  own  experience 
and  your  superiority.  And  here  you  were  first 
cheated  by  the  wily  Chinese  peddlers — although 
you  had  cut  them  down  to  half  their  price — when 
they  unrolled  their  packs  of  crepe  pajamas,  net- 
work underwear,  and  other  merchandise. 

And  all  one  Sunday  afternoon  you  listened  to 
a  lecture  from  the  President  of  the  Manila  Board 
of  Health,  who  told  of  the  diseases  that  the  flesh 
was  heir  to  in  the  Philippines,  and  cheerfully  as- 
sured you  that  within  a  month  or  two  your  weight 
would  be  reduced  to  the  extent  of  twenty-five  or 
fifty  pounds.  And  after  dinner — where  you 
learned  that  chiquos  though  they  looked  a  good 
deal  like  potatoes,  were  a  kind  of  fruit — while  you 
were  strolling  down  the  avenue  beyond  the  market- 


38  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

house,  you  got  a  ducking  from  a  sudden  shower 
that  ceased  quite  as  unceremoniously  as  it  had  be- 
gun. There  was  excitement  in  the  bungalow  that 
night  because  of  its  invasion  by  a  hostile  monkey. 
An  impromptu  vigilance  committee  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  ejecting  the  unwelcome  visitor,  persuad- 
ing him  of  the  superior  advantages  of  "Barracks 
B." 

Together  with  a  few  dissenters,  I  moved  out 
next  morning,  finding  better  quarters  in  the  first 
floor  of  a  Spanish  house  in  Magallanes.  We 
made  the  best  of  an  old  ruin  opposite,  which  we 
considered  picturesque,  and  which  was  occupied 
by  Filipino  squatters,  who  conducted  a  hand  laun- 
dry there.  Our  first  muchacho,  Valentine,  sur- 
prised us  by  existing  on  the  ten-cent  dinners  of 
the  Chinese  chophouse  on  the  corner.  But  he  as- 
sured us  that  it  was  a  good  place ;  that  the  greasy 
Chinaman,  who  fried  the  sausages  and  boiled  the 
rice  back  in  the  tiny  den,  was  a  great  favorite.  At 
our  own  restaurant,  two  Negro  women  made  the 
best  corn-fritters  we  had  ever  tasted ;  a  green  par- 
rot and  a  monkey  squawked  and  chattered  on  the 
balustrade;  a  Filipino  boy  played  marches  on  a 
cracked  piano-forte. 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  39 

And  so  we  lived  behind  the  heavily-barred 
windows,  watching  the  shifting  throng  —  the 
staggering  coolies,  girls  with  trays  of  oranges 
upon  their  heads,  and  men  in  curiously  fash- 
ioned hats — driving  around  the  city  in  the  after- 
noon (for  Valentine  was  at  his  best  in  getting 
carromatas  under  false  pretenses)  till  the  little 
family  broke  up.  The  first  to  go  returned  after  a 
day  or  two,  almost  in  tears  with  the  alarming  in- 
formation that  the  mayor  of  the  town  that  he  had 
been  assigned  to  was  a  naked  savage ;  that  what  he 
supposed  was  pepper  on  the  fried  eggs  he  had  had 
for  breakfast,  had  turned  out  to  be  black  ants — 
and  would  n't  we  please  pay  his  carromata  fare, 
because  he  was  completely  out  of  funds? 

The  carabao  carts  gradually  removed  our  bag- 
gage. Valentine  was  faithful  to  the  last.  Most  of 
us  met  each  other  later,  and  exchanged  notes.  One 
had  escaped  the  target  practice  of  ladrones;  one 
had  been  lost  among  the  mountains  of  Benguet; 
another  had  been  carried  to  Manila  on  a  coasting 
steamer,  reaching  the  Civil  hospital  in  time  to 
fight  against  the  fevers  that  had  wasted  him ;  and 
poor  Fitz  died  of  cholera  in  one  of  the  most  lonely 
villages  among  the  Negros  hills. 


40  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

"Won't  those  infernal  bells  stop  ringing  for 
a  while  and  let  a  fellow  go  to  sleep?"  said  Howard 
as  he  got  out  of  bed.  "Look  at  those  creatures, 
will  you?"  pointing  to  the  fat  mosquitoes  at  the 
top  of  the  mosquito-bar.  "The  vampires !  How 
do  you  suppose  they  got  in,  anyway?" 

"It  beats  me,"  said  the  Duke.  "It  is  n't  the 
mosquitoes  or  the  bells :  that  ball  of  fire  that 's 
shining  through  the  window  makes  a  perfect  oven 
of  the  room." 

The  merciless  sun  had  risen  over  the  low  roofs 
of  the  walled  city,  and  the  heat  was  radiating  from 
the  white  walls  and  the  scorching  streets.  The 
Duke  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  low  army  cot 
in  his  pajamas  and  his  bedroom  slippers,  smoking 
a  native  cigarette. 

"It  must  be  about  ten  o'clock,"  said  Howard. 
"I  wonder  if  the  Chinaman  left  any  breakfast  for 
us." 

"Probably.  A  couple  of  cold  fried  eggs,  or  a 
clammy  dish  of  oatmeal  and  condensed  milk. 
Shall  we  get  up  and  go  somewhere?" 

"I  can't  find  any  clothes,"  said  Howard ;  "this 
place  is  turning  into  a  regular  chaos,  anyway." 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  41 

It  was  indeed  a  chaos, — lines  of  clothes  where  the 
mosquitoes  swarmed,  papers  and  books  scattered 
about  the  floor,  pajamas,  duck  suits,  towels  on 
every  chair,  and  muddy  white  shoes  strewn 
around.  "Does  n't  the  muchacho  ever  clean 
things  up?" 

"That's  nothing,"  said  the  Duke;  "wait  till 
the  Chinaman  runs  off  with  all  your  washing.  I 
can  lend  you  a  white  suit;  and,  say, — tell  the 
muchacho  to  come  in  and  bianco  a  few  shoes." 

As  there  are  no  apartment-houses  in  Manila, 
the  young  clerk  on  small  salary  will  usually  live  in 
a  furnished  room  in  the  walled  city.  For  the  first 
few  months  it  is  a  rather  dreary  life.  The  cool 
veranda  and  the  steamer  chair,  after  the  day's 
work,  is  a  luxury  denied  the  young  Americans 
within  the  city  walls.  The  list  of  amusements 
that  Manila  offers  is  an  unattractive  one.  There 
is  a  baseball  game  between  two  companies  of 
soldiers,  or  between  the  Government  employees 
representing  different  departments.  There  is  the 
cock-fight  out  at  Santa  Ana,  Sunday  mornings 
and  fiesta  days;  but  this  is  mostly  patronized  by 


42  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

natives,  and  is  not  especially  agreeable  to  Amer- 
icans. The  Country  club — reached  after  a  long 
drive  out  Malate  way,  past  the  Malate  fort  that 
bears  the  marks  of  Dewey's  shells,  past  the  old 
church  once  occupied  by  soldiers,  through  the  rice- 
pads  where  the  American  troops  first  met  the  In- 
surrecto  firing  line — is  little  more  than  a  mere 
gambling-house.  It  is  now  visited  by  those  whose 
former  resorts  in  the  walled  city  have  been  broken 
up  by  the  constabulary. 

The  races  of  the  Santa  Mesa  Jockey  club  are 
held  on  Sunday  afternoons.  It  is  a  rather  dusty 
^drive  out  to  the  track.  A  number  of  noisy  "road- 
houses"  along  the  way,  where  drinking  is  going 
on;  the  Paco  cemetery,  where  the  bleached  bones 
have  been  piled  around  the  cross, — these  are  the 
sole  diversions  that  the  road  affords.  The  races 
are  interesting  only  in  the  opportunity  they  offer 
to  observe  the  native  types.  Here  you  will  find 
the  Filipino  dandy  in  his  polished  boots,  his  low- 
crowned  derby  hat,  and  baggy  trousers.  He 
makes  the  boast  that  he  has  not  walked  fifty 
meters  on  Manila's  streets  in  the  past  year.  This 
dainty  little  fellow  always  travels  in  a  carriage. 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  43 

He  flicks  the  ashes  off  his  cigarette  with  his  long 
finger-nail  as  he  stands  by  while  the  gay-colored 
jockeys  are  being  weighed  in.  Up  in  the  grand- 
stand, in  a  private  box,  a  party  of  mestizo,  girls, 
elaborately  gowned,  are  sipping  lemonade,  or  eat- 
ing sherbet  and  vanilla  cakes,  while  one  of  the 
jockeys  leans  admiringly  upon  the  rail.  The 
silver  pesos  stacked  up  on  the  table  in  the  center  of 
the  box  are  given  to  a  man  in  waiting  to  be 
wagered  on  the  various  events.  The  finishes  are 
seldom  very  close,  the  Filipino  ponies  scampering 
around  the  turf  like  rats.  A  native  band,  however, 
adds  to  the  excitement  which  the  clamor  at  the 
booking  office  and  the  animated  chatter  of  duenas, 
caballeros,  jockeys,  and  senoritas  in  the  galleries 
intensifies. 

Manila,  the  City  of  churches,  celebrates  its 
Sabbath  in  its  own  peculiar  way.  The  Protestant 
churches  suffer  in  comparison  with  the  grand 
church  of  San  Sebastian — set  up  from  the  iron 
plates  made  in  Belgium — and  the  churches  of  the 
various  religious  orders.  Magnificence  and  show 
appeal  most  strongly  to  the  Filipino.  He  is 
taught  to  look  down  on  the  Protestant  religion  as 
4 


44  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

plebeian;  the  priests  regard  the  Protestant  with 
condescending  superciliousness.  Until  the  trans- 
portation facilities  can  be  extended  there  will  be 
no  general  coming  together  of  Americans  even 
on  Sunday  morning,  as  the  colony  from  the 
United  States  is  scattered  far  and  wide  through- 
out the  city. 

-  As  his  salary  increases,  the  young  Government 
employee  looks  around  for  better  quarters.  These 
he  secures  by  organizing  a  small  club  and  renting 
the  upper  floor  of  one  of  the  large  Spanish  houses. 
As  the  young  men  in  Manila  are  especially  con- 
genial, there  is  little  difficulty  in  conducting  such 
an  enterprise.  The  members  of  a  lodging  club 
thus  formed  will  generally  reserve  a  table  for 
their  use  at  one  of  the  adjacent  boarding-houses  or 
hotels. 

The  fashionable  world — the  heads  of  depart- 
ments, general  army  officers,  and  wealthy  mer- 
chants— occupy  grand  residences  in  Ermita  or  in 
San  Miguel.  These  houses,  set  back  in  extensive 
gardens,  are  approached  by  driveways  banked 
luxuriously  with  palms.  A  massive  iron  fence, 
mounted  on  stone  posts,  gives  to  the  residence  a 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  45 

certain  tone  of  dignity  as  well  as  a  suggestion  of 
exclusiveness.  Those  situated  in  Calle  Real  (Er- 
mita)  have  verandas,  balconies,  and  summer- 
houses  looking  out  upon  the  sea. 

The  prosperous  bachelor  has  his  stable,  stable- 
boys,  and  Chinese  cook.  At  eight  o'clock  A.  M. 
the  China  ponies  will  be  harnessed  ready  to  drive 
him  to  the  office,  and  at  four  o'clock  the  carriage 
calls  for  him  to  take  him  home.  Most  of  the 
Americans  thus  situated  seldom  leave  their  homes. 
There  is,  of  course,  the  Army  and  Navy  club  in 
the  walled  city,  and  the  University  club  in  Er- 
mita;  but  aside  from  an  occasional  visit  to  these 
organizations,  he  is  satisfied  with  a  short  turn  on 
the  Luneta  and  the  privacy  of  his  own  house. 

The  afternoon  teas  at  the  University  club, 
where  you  can  see  the  sunset  lighting  up  Cor- 
regidor  and  glorifying  the  white  battleships,  the 
monthly  entertainments  at  the  Oriente,  and  the 
governor's  reception,  are  the  social  features  of 
Manila  life.  The  ladies  do  considerable  enter- 
taining, wearing  themselves  out  in  the  perform- 
ance of  their  social  duties.  As  a  relaxation,  an 
informal  picnic  party  will  sometimes  charter  a 


46        •     THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

small  launch,  and  spend  the  day  along  the  pictur- 
esque banks  of  the  Pasig.  The  customs  of  Manila 
make  an  obligation  of  a  frequent  visit  to  the  Civil 
hospital,  if  it  so  happen  that  a  friend  is  sick  there. 
Ic  is  a  long  ride  along  Calle  Iris,  with  its  rows  of 
bamboo-trees,  past  the  merry-go-round,  Bilibid 
prison,  and  the  railway  station;  but  the  patients 
at  the  hospital  appreciate  these  visits  quite  suffi- 
ciently to  compensate  for  any  inconveniences  that 
may  have  been  caused. 

During  the  holiday  season,  certain  attractions 
are  offered  at  the  theaters.  While  these  are 
mostly  given  by  cheap  vaudeville  companies  that 
have  drifted  over  from  Australia  or  the  China 
coast,  when  any  deserving  entertainment  is  an- 
nounced the  "upper  ten"  turn  out  en  masse.  Dur- 
ing the  memorable  engagement  of  the  Twenty- 
fourth  Infantry  minstrels,  the  boxes  at  the  Zorilla 
theater  were  filled  by  all  the  pride  and  beauty  of 
Manila.  Captains  and  lieutenants  from  Fort  San- 
tiago and  Camp  Wallace,  naval  officers  from  the 
Cavite  colony,  matrons  and  maidens  from  the 
civil  and  the  military  "sets,"  made  a  vivacious 
audience,  while  the  Filipinos  packed  in  the  sur- 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIFE.  47 

rounding  galleries,  applauded  with  enthusiasm  as 
the  cake-walk  and  the  Negro  melody  were  intro- 
duced into  the  Orient. 

Where  money  circulates  so  freely  and  is  spent 
so  recklessly  as  in  Manila,  where  the  "East  of 
Suez"  moral  standard  is  established,  the  young 
fellows  who  have  come  out  to  the  Far  East,  in- 
spired by  Kipling's  poems  and  the  spirit  of  the 
Orient,  are  tempted  constantly  to  live  beyond  their 
means.  It  is  a  country  "where  there  ain't  no  Ten 
Commandments,  and  a  man  can  raise  a  thirst." 
Then  the  Sampoluc  and  Quiapo  districts,  where 
the  carriage-lamps  are  weaving  back  and  forth 
among  pavilions  softly  lighted,  where  the  tinkle 
of  the  samosen  is  heard,  and  where  O  Taki  San, 
immodest  but  bewitching,  stands  behind  the  bead- 
work  curtain,  her  kimono  parted  at  the  knee, — 
this  is  the  world  of  the  Far  East,  the  cup  of  Circe. 

There  was  the  pathetic  case  of  the  young  man 
who  "went  to  pieces"  in  Manila  recently.  He  was 
a  Harvard  athlete,  but  was  physically  unsound. 
As  a  result  of  an  unfortunate  blow  received  upon 
the  head  a  short  time  after  his  arrival  in  Manila, 
he  became  despondent  and  morose.  After  undue 


48  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

excitement  he  would  fall  into  a  dreamy  trance.  At 
such  times  he  would  fancy  that  his  mother  had 
died,  and  he  would  be  convulsed  with  sorrow, 
breaking  unexpectedly  into  a  rousing  college  song. 
He  meditated  suicide,  and  was  prevented  several 
times  from  taking  his  own  life.  On  coming  to 
Manila  from  the  provinces,  he  stoutly  refused  to 
be  sent  home,  but  lived  at  his  friends'  expense, 
trying  to  borrow  money  from  everybody  that  he 
met.  Other  young  fellows  overwhelmed  by  debts 
have  tried  to  break  loose  from  the  Islands,  but 
have  been  brought  back  from  Japanese  ports  to  be 
placed  in  Bilibid.  That  is  the  saddest  life  of  all — 
in  Bilibid.  Many  a  convict  in  that  prison,  far 
away,  has  been  a  gentleman,  and  there  are  mothers 
in  America  who*  wonder  why  their  boys  do  not 
come  home. 

Somebody  once  said  that  Manila  life  was  a 
perpetual  farewell.  The  days  of  the  arrival  and 
departure  of  the  transports  are  the  days  that  vary 
the  monotony.  As  the  procession  of  big  mail- 
wagons  rumbles  down  the  Escolta  to  the  post- 
office,  as  the  letters  from  America  are  opened, 
as  the  last  month's  newspapers  and  magazines 


THE  WHITE  MAN'S  LIEE.  49 

appear  in  the  shop-windows,  comes  a  moment  of 
regret  and  lonesomeness.  But  as  the  transport, 
with  its  tawny  load  of  soldiers  and  of  joyful 
officers,  pulls  out,  the  dweller  in  Manila,  long  ago 
resigned  to  fate,  takes  up  the  grind  again. 

Sometimes,  on  Sunday  morning,  he  will  take 
the  customs-house  launch  out  to  one  of  the 
Manila-Hong  Kong  boats,  to  see  a  friend  off  for 
the  homeland  and  "God's  country."  Leaning 
over  the  taffrail,  while  the  crowd  below  is  cele- 
brating the  departure  by  the  opening  of  bottles, 
he  will  fancy  that  he,  too,  is  going — till  the  warn- 
ing whistle  sounds,  and  it  is  time  to  go  ashore. 
The  best  view  of  Manila,  it  is  said,  is  that  obtained 
from  the  stern  deck  of  an  outgoing  steamer,  as 
the  red  lighthouse  and  the  pier  fade  gradually 
away.  But  even  after  he  has  reached  the  "white 
man's  country"  some  time  he  may  "hear  the  East 
a-calling,"  and  come  back  again. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AROUND   THE    PROVINCES. 

A  HALF  century  before  the  founding  of 
Manila,  Magellan  had  set  up  the  cross  upon  a 
small  hill  on  the  site  of  Butuan,  on  the  north 
coast  of  Midanao,  celebrating  the  first  mass  in 
the  new  land,  and  taking  possession  of  the  island 
in  the  name  of  Spain.  Three  centuries  have 
passed  since  then,  and  there  are  still  tribes  on  that 
island  who  have  never  yielded  to  the  influence  of 
Christianity  nor  recognized  the  authority  of  Spain 
or  the  United  States.  Magellan's  flotilla  sailing 
north  touched  at  Cebu,  where  the  explorers  made 
a  treaty  with  King  Hamabar.  The  king  invited 
them  to  attend  a  banquet,  where,  on  seeing  that 
his  visitors  were  off  their  guard,  he  slew  a  number 
of  them  mercilessly,  while  the  rest  escaped.  On 
the  same  spot  three  hundred  and  fifty-odd  years 
later,  three  American  schoolteachers  were  as 
treacherously  slain  by  the  descendants  of  this 
Malay  king. 

50 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  51 

Not  till  the  expedition  of  Legaspi  and  the 
Augustine  monks  visited  the  shores  of  the  Vis- 
cayan  islands  were  the  natives  subjugated,  and 
the  finding  of  the  Santo  Nino  (Holy  Child) 
brought  this  about.  Since  then  the  monks  and 
friars,  playing  on  the  superstition  of  the  islanders, 
have  managed  to  control  them  and  to  mold  them 
to  their  purposes.  In  1568  a  permanent  establish- 
ment was  made  at  Cebu  by  the  bestowal  of  muni- 
tions, troops,  and  arms,  brought  by  the  galleons 
of  Don  Juan  de  Salcedo.  The  conquest  of  the 
northern  provinces  began  soon  after  the  flotilla 
of  Legaspi  came  to  anchor  in  Manila  Bay. 

The  idea  that  Manila  or  the  island  of  Luzon 
comprises  most  of  our  possessions  in  the  East 
is  one  that  I  have  found  quite  prevalent 
throughout  America.  The  broken  blue  line  of 
the  coast  of  Luzon  reaches  away  in  a  dim  con- 
tour to  the  northward  for  two  hundred  miles, 
until  the  chain  of  the  Zambales  Mountains  breaks 
into  the  flying,  wave-lashed  islands  standing  out 
against  the  trackless  sea.  Southern  Luzon,  the 
country  of  Batangas,  and  the  Camarines,  extends 
a  hundred  miles  south  of  Manila  Bay. 


52  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

In  the  far  north  are  the  rich  provinces  of 
Cagayan,  Ilocos  Norte  and  Ilocos  Sur,  Abra, 
Benguet,  and  Nueva  Viscaya.  The  land  at  the 
sea  level  produces  hemp,  tobacco,  rice,  and  cocoa- 
nuts;  the  heavily-timbered  mountain  slopes  con- 
tain rich  woods,  cedar,  mahogany,  molave,  ebony, 
and  ipil.  A  wonderful  river  rushes  through  the 
mountain  canons,  and  the  famous  valley  of  the 
Cagayan  is  formed — the  garden  of  Eden  of  the 
Philippines.  The  peaks  of  the  Zambales  are  so 
high  that  frost  will  sometimes  gather  at  the  tops, 
while  in  the  upper  forests  even  the  flora  of  the 
temperate  zone  is  reproduced.  Negritos,  the 
primeval  savages,  run  wild  in  the  great  wilder- 
ness, while  cannibals,  head-hunters,  and  other  bar- 
baric peoples  live  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
shore. 

The  islands  to  the  south  of  Luzon  reach  in  a 
long  chain  toward  Borneo,  a  distance  of  six  hun- 
dred miles.  During  a  journey  to  the  southern 
islands  a  continuous  procession  of  majestic  moun- 
tains moves  by  like  a  panorama — first  the  misty 
peaks  of  the  Mindoro  coast ;  and  then  the  wooded 
group  of  islands  in  the  Romblon  Archipelago,  that 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  53 

rises  abruptly  out  of  the  blue  sea.  Hundreds  of 
smaller  islands,  like  bouquets,  dot  the  waters  off 
Panay,  while  the  bare  ridges  of  Cebu  of  the  Plu- 
tonic peaks  of  Negros  loom  up  far  beyond.  Pass- 
ing the  triple  range  of  Mindanao,  the  scattered 
islands  of  the  Jolo  Archipelago,  the  Tapul  and  the 
Tawi-Tawi  groups  mark  the  extreme  southern 
limits  of  the  Philippines. 

In  nearly  all  these  islands  the  interior  is  taken 
up  by  various  tribes  of  savages,  sixty  or  seventy 
different  tribes  in  all,  speaking  as  many  different 
dialects.  There  are  the  Igorrotes  of  the  north, 
who  make  it  their  religion,  when  the  fire-tree 
blooms,  to  go  out  on  a  still  hunt  after  human 
heads.  When  one  of  their  tribe  dies,  the  number 
of  fingers  that  he  holds  up  as  he  breathes  his  last 
expresses  the  number  of  heads  which  his  survivors 
must  secure.  An  Igorrote  suitor,  too,  must  pay 
the  price,  if  he  would  have  his  bride,  in  human 
heads.  The  head  of  his  best  friend  or  of  his 
deadliest  enemy  is  equally  acceptable;  and  if  his 
own  pate  fall  in  the  attempt,  he  would  not  be  alone 
among  those  who  have  "lost  their  heads"  because 
of  a  fair  woman. 


54  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Although  the  island  of  Luzon  was  settled  later 
than  the  southern  islands,  civilization  has  been 
more  widely  disseminated  in  the  north.  A  rail- 
way line  connects  Manila  with  Dagupan  and  the 
other  cities  of  the  distant  provinces.  Aparri,  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  near  its  mouth,  is  the  commercial 
port  of  Cagayan.  The  country  around  is  rich  in 
live  stock,  and  is  partly  under  cultivation.  Dur- 
ing the  rainy  season,  however,  the  pontoon  bridges 
over  the  Rio  Grande  are  swept  away;  the  roads 
become  impassable.  The  raging  torrent  of  the 
river  threatens  the  inland  navigation,  while  the 
monsoons  on  the  China  Sea  make  transportation 
very  difficult. 

The  provinces  of  North  and  South  Ilocos  bris- 
tle with  dense  forests,  where  not  only  savages,  but 
deer,  wild  hogs,  and  jungle- fowl  abound,  and 
where  the  white  man's  foot  has  never  been.  The 
natives  bring  the  forest  products,  pitch,  rattan, 
and  the  wild  honey,  to  the  coast  towns,  where 
they  can  exchange  their  goods  for  rice.  While  in 
the  mountainous  regions  of  the  northern  part, 
barbarians  too  timid  to  approach  the  coast  are 
found,  most  of  the  pagan  natives  are  of  a  mixed 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  55 

type.  The  primitive  Negritos,  living  in  these 
parts,  as  those  also  living  on  the  island  of  Negros 
and  in  Mindanao,  are  of  unknown  origin — unless 
they  are  allied  with  similar  types  of  pigmies,  such 
as  the  Sakais  of  the  Malay  Peninsula,  or  the  Min- 
copies  of  the  Andaman  Islands  in  the  Indian 
Ocean.  Some  anthropologists  would  even  associ- 
ate them  with  the  black  dwarfs  in  the  interior  of 
Africa.  These  savages  live  a  nomadic  life,  and 
seldom  come  down  near  the  villages.  But  the 
mixed  tribes,  the  Negrito-Malay,  or  the  Malay- 
Japanese,  are  bolder  and  more  enterprising.  The 
presence  of  the  Japanese  and  Chinese  pirates  in 
this  country  in  the  early  days  has  been  the  cause  of 
many  of  the  eccentric  types  whose  origin,  entirely 
independent  from  the  origin  of  the  Negritos,  was 
Malayan.  Here  the  Ilocanes,  or  the  natives  of 
the  better  class,  the  Christians  of  these  provinces, 
although  of  Malay  origin,  belong  to  a  more  cul- 
tured class  of  Malay  ancestry.  They  are  amenable 
to  Christian  influences,  and  their  manners  are 
agreeable  and  pleasing.  They  cultivate  abundant 
quantities  of  sugar,  cotton,  indigo,  rice,  and  to- 
bacco, and  the  women  weave  the  famous  Ilocano 


56  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

blankets  that  are  sold  at  such  a  premium  in 
Manila.  Vigan,  the  capital  of  South  Ilocos,  has 
the  finest  public  buildings  and  the  best-kept  streets 
of  any  of  the  provincial  cities. 

Another  tribe  of  people,  the  Zambales,  are  to 
be  found  toward  the  center  of  Luzon.  Few  Igor- 
rotes,  Ilocanes,  and  Negritos  live  in  the  province 
of  Zambales  or  Pangasinan.  Pampanga  Province 
also  has  its  own  tribe  and  a  different  dialect. 
Tagalog  is  spoken  around  Manila,  in  Laguna 
Province,  in  Batangas,  and  the  Camarines;  Vis- 
cayan  is  the  language  of  the  southern  islands. 

A  monotonous  sameness  is  the  characteristic 
of  most  of  the  small  Filipino  towns.  In  seeing 
one  you  have  seen  all ;  you  wonder  what  good  can 
come  out  of  such  a  Nazareth,  and  there  are  very 
few  of  the  provincial  capitals,  indeed,  that  merit 
a  description.  Rambling  official  buildings,  made 
of  white  concrete  and  roofed  with  nipa  or  with 
corrugated  iron ;  a  ragged  plaza,  with  the  church 
and  convent,  and  the  long  streets  lined  with  native 
houses ;  pigs  with  heads  like  coal-scuttles ;  chickens 
and  yellow  dogs  and  naked  brats,  scabby  and  pea- 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  57 

nut-shaped, — such  are  the  first  and  last  impres- 
sions of  the  Filipino  town. 

We  reached  Cebu  during  the  rainy  season, 
and  it  was  a  little  city  of  muddy  streets  and  tiled 
roofs.  As  the  transport  came  to  anchor  in  the 
harbor,  Filipino  boys  came  out  in  long  canoes, 
and  dived  for  pennies  till  the  last  you  saw  of 
them  was  the  white  soles  of  their  bare  feet.  And 
in  another  boat  two  little  girls  were  dancing,  while 
the  boys  went  through  the  manual  of  arms.  A 
number  of  tramp  steamers,  barkentines,  and  the 
big  Hong  Kong  boat  were  lying  in  the  harbor, 
while  the  coasting  steamers  of  the  Chinese  mer- 
chants and  the  smaller  hemp-boats  lined  the  docks. 
As  this  was  our  first  port  in  the  Viscayan  group, 
the  difference  between  the  natives  here  and  those 
of  the  Far  North  was  very  noticeable.  There,  the 
volcanic,  wiry  Tagalog,  or  the  athletic  Igorrote 
savage;  here,  the  easy-going,  happy  Viscayan, 
carabao-like  in  his  movements,  with  a  large  head, 
enormous  mouth  and  feet. 

Along  the  water  front  a  line  of  low  white  build- 
ings ran, — the  wholesale  houses  of  the  English, 
Chinese,  Spanish,  and  American  commercial  firms. 


58  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

The  street  was  full  of  carabao  carts,  yoked  to  their 
uncomfortable  cattle.  Agents  and  merchants, 
dressed  in  white,  were  hurrying  to  and  fro  with 
manifests.  Around  the  corner  was  a  long  street 
blocked  with  merchandise,  and  shaded  with  the 
awnings  of  the  Chinese  stores.  There  was  a  lit- 
tle barber-shop  in  a  kiosko,  where  an  idle  native, 
crossing  his  legs  and  tilting  back  his  chair,  aban- 
doned himself  to  the  spirit  of  a  big  guitar.  The 
avenue  that  branched  off  here  would  be  thronged 
with  shoppers  during  the  busy  hours.  Here  were 
the  retail  stores  of  every  description — "The  Nine- 
teenth-century Bazaar,"  the  stock  of  which  was 
every  bit  as  modern  as  its  name — clothing-stores, 
tailor-shops,  restaurants,  jewelry-stores,  and  curio 
bazaars. 

Numerous  plazas  were  surrounded  by  old 
Spanish  buildings  and  hotels.  The  public  gar- 
dens— if  the  acre  of  dried  palms  and  withered 
grass  may  so  be  called — were  situated  near  the 
water  front,  and  had  a  band  stand  for  the  use  of 
the  musicians  on  fiesta  days.  The  racetrack  was 
adjacent  to  the  gardens,  and  the  public  buildings 
faced  these  reservations.  The  magnificent  old 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  59 

churches,  with  their  picturesque  bell  towers;  the 
white  convent  walls,  with  niches  for  the  statuettes 
of  saints ;  the  colleges  and  convents, — give  to  the 
provincial  capital  an  air  of  dignity. 

The  boarding-house,  kept  by  a  crusty  but 
good-hearted  Englishman,  stood  opposite  the  row 
of  porches  roofed  with  heavy  tiles,  that  made 
Calle  Colon  a  colonnade.  Across  the  street  was  a 
window  in  the  wall,  where  the  brown-eyed  Lucre- 
tia  used  to  sell  ginger-ale  and  sarsaparilla  to  the 
soldiers.  With  her  waving  pompadour,  her  olive 
cheeks,  and  sultry  eyes,  Lucretia  was  the  belle 
of  all  the  town.  There  wasn't  a  soldier  in  the 
whole  command  who  would  n't  have  laid  down 
his  life  for  her.  And  in  this  land  where  nothing 
seemed  to  be  worth  while,  Lucretia,  with  her 
pretty  manners  and  her  gentle  ways,  had  a  good 
influence  upon  the  tawny  musketeers  who  dropped 
in  to  play  a  game  of  dominos  or  drink  a  glass  of 
soda  with  her;  and  she  treated  all  of  them  alike. 

A  monkey  chattered  on  the  balcony,  sliding  up 
and  down  the  bamboo-pole,  or  reaching  for  pieces 
of  bananas  which  the  boarders  passed  him  from 
the  dinner-table.  "Have  you  chowed  yet?"  asked 


60  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

a  grating  voice,  which,  on  a  negative  reply,  or- 
dered a  place  to  be  made  ready  for  me  at  the  table. 
Barefooted  muchachos  placed  the  thumb-marked 
dishes  on  the  dirty  table-cloth.  I  might  add  that  a 
napkin  had  been  spread  to  cover  the  spot  where 
the  tomato  catsup  had  been  spilled,  and  that  the 
chicken-soup,  in  which  a  slice  of  bread  was  soaked, 
slopped  over  the  untidy  thumb  that  carried  it. 
But  I  omitted  this  course,  as  the  red  ants  floating 
on  the  surface  of  the  broth  rendered  the  dish  a 
questionable  delicacy.  The  boarders  had  ad- 
journed to  the  parlor,  and  were  busy  reading 
"Diamond  Dick,"  "Nick  Carter,"  and  the  other 
five  and  ten  cent  favorites.  A  heavy  rain  had  set 
in,  as  I  drew  my  chair  up  to  the  light  and  tried 
to  lose  myself  in  the  adventures  of  the  boy  detec- 
tive. 

But  the  mosquitoes  of  Cebu!  The  rainy  sea- 
son had  produced  them  by  the  wholesale,  and  full- 
blooded  ones  at  that.  These  were  the  strange  bed- 
fellows that  made  misery  that  night,  as  they  dis- 
covered openings  in  the  mosquito-bar  that,  I  be- 
lieve, they  actually  made  themselves!  The  par- 
Jor  (where  the  bed  was  situated)  was  a  very  in- 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  61 

teresting  room.  There  was  a  rickety  walnut  cab- 
inet containing  an  assortment  of  cobwebby  Ve- 
nus's  ringers,  which  remind  you  of  the  mantel 
that  you  fit  over  the  gas  jet;  seashells  that  had 
been  washed  up,  appropriately  branded  "Souvenir 
of  Cebu;"  tortoise-shell  curios  from  Nagasaki, 
and  an  album  of  pictures  from  Japan.  The  floor 
was  polished  every  morning  by  the  house-boys, 
and  the  furniture  arranged  in  the  most  formal 
manner,  vis-a-vis. 

The  senorita  Rosario,  the  sister-in-law  of  the 
proprietor,  came  in  to  entertain  me  presently, 
dressed  in  a  bodice  of  blue  pina,  with  the  wide 
sleeves  newly  starched  and  ironed,  and  with  her 
hair  unbound.  She  sat  down  opposite  me  in  a 
rocking-chair,  shook  off  her  slippers  on  the  floor, 
and  curling  her  toes  around  the  rung,  rocked  vio- 
lently back  and  forth.  She  punctuated  her  re- 
marks by  frequent  clucks,  which,  I  suppose,  were 
meant  to  be  coquettish.  Her  music-teacher  was 
expected  presently;  so  while  I  wrote  a  letter  on 
her  escritorio,  the  senorita  smoked  a  cigarette 
upon  the  balcony.  The  maestro  came  at  last;  a 
little,  pock-marked  fellow,  dapper,  and  neatly 


62  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

dressed,  his  fingers  stained  with  nicotine  from 
cigarettes.  Together  they  took  places  at  the  small 
piano,  and  I  could  see  by  their  exchange  of  glances 
that  the  music-lesson  was  an  incidental  feature 
of  the  game.  They  sang  together  from  a  Spanish 
opera  the  song  of  Pepin,  the  great  braggadocio,  of 
whom  't  is  said,  when  he  goes  walking  in  the 
streets,  "the  girls  assemble  just  to  see  him  pass." 

"Cuando  me  lanzo  a  calle 
Con  el  futsaque  y  el  cla, 
Todas  las  nifias  se  asoman 
Solo  por  ver  me  pasar : 
Unas  a  otras  se  dicen 
Que  chico  mas  resa  lao! 
De  la  sal  que  va  tirando 
Voy  a  coher  un  punao." 

When  the  music-teacher  had  departed,  the 
senorita  leaned  out  of  the  balcony,  watching  the 
crowd  of  beggars  in  the  street  below.  Of  all  the 
beggars  of  the  Orient,  those  of  Cebu  are  the  most 
clinging  and  persistent  and  repulsive.  Covered 
with  filthy  rags  and  scabs,  with  emaciated  bodies 
and  pinched  faces,  they  are  allowed  to  come  into 
the  city  every  week  and  beg  for  alms.  Their 
whining,  "Da  mi  dinero,  senor,  mucho  pobre  me" 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  63 

("Give  me  some  money,  sir,  for  I  am  very  poor"), 
sounds  like  a  last  wail  from  the  lower  world. 

It  was  at  Iloilo  that  we  took  a  local  excursion 
steamer  across  to  the  pueblo  of  Salai,  in  Negros. 
It  was  a  holiday  excursion,  and  the  boat  was 
packed  with  natives  out  for  fun.  There  was  a 
peddler  with  a  stock  of  lemon  soda-water,  sarsa- 
parilla,  sticks  of  boiled  rice,  cakes,  and  cigarettes. 
A  game  of  monte  was  immediately  started  on  the 
deck,  the  Filipinos  squatting  anxiously  around  the 
dealer,  wagering  their  suca  ducos  (pennies)  or 
their  silver  pieces  on  the  turn  of  certain  cards. 
It  was  a  perfectly  good-natured  game,  rendered 
absurd  by  the  concentric  circles  of  bare  feet  sur- 
rounding it.  There  seemed  to  be  a  personality 
about  those  feet ;  there  were  the  sleek  extremities 
of  some  more  prosperous  councilman  or  insurrecto 
general ;  there  were  the  horny  feet  of  the  old  wo- 
men, slim  and  bony,  or  a  pair  of  great  toes  quiz- 
zically turned  in;  and  there  were  flat  feet,  speck- 
led, brown,  or  yellow,  like  a  starfish  cast  up  on  the 
sand.  They  seemed  to  watch  the  game  with  in- 
terest, and  to  note  every  move  the  dealer  made, 
smiling  or  frowning  as  they  won  or  lost.  There 


64  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

was  a  tramway  at  Salay,  drawn  by  a  bull,  and 
driven  by  a  fellow  whose  chief  object  seemed  to  be 
to  linger  with  the  senorita  at  the  terminus.  The 
town  was  hotter  than  the  desert  of  Sahara,  and 
as  sandy;  there  was  little  prospect  of  relief  save 
in  the  distant  mountains  rising  to  the  clouds  in 
the  blue  distance. 

Returning  to  our  caravansary  at  Iloilo,  we  dis- 
covered that  our  beds  had  been  assigned  to  others ; 
there  was  nothing  left  to  do  but  take  possession 
of  the  first  unoccupied  beds  that  we  saw.  One  of 
our  party  evidently  got  into  the  "Spaniard's"  bed, 
the  customary  resting-place  of  the  proprietor,  for 
presently  we  were  awakened  by  the  anxious  cries 
of  the  muchachos,  "Seiior,  senor,  el  Espaiiol  vi- 
ene!"  (Sir,  the  Spaniard  comes!)  But  he  was 
not  to  be  put  out  by  any  Spaniard,  and  expressed 
his  sentiments  by  rolling  over  and  emitting  a  loud 
snore.  The  Spaniard,  easily  excited,  on  his  en- 
trance flew  into  an  awful  rage,  while  the  usurper 
calmly  snored,  and  the  muchachos  peeked  in 
through  the  door  at  peril  of  their  lives. 

Nothing  especially  of  interest  is  to  be  found 
at  Iloilo, — only  a  long  avenue  containing  Spanish, 


AROUND  THE  PROVINCES.  65 

native,  and  Chinese  stores ;  a  tiny  plaza,  where  the 
city  band  played  and  the  people  promenaded  hand 
in  hand;  a  harbor  flecked  with  white,  triangular 
sails  of  native  velas;  and  the  river,  where  the 
coasting  boats  and  tugs  are  lying  at  the  docks. 
Neat  cattle  take  the  place  of  carabaos  here  to  a 
great  extent.  There  is  the  usual  stone  fort  that 
seems  to  belong  to  some  scene  of  a  comic  opera. 
America  was  represented  here  by  a  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association,  a  clubhouse,  and  a  presi- 
dentc.  The  troops  then  stationed  in  the  town 
added  a  certain  tone  of  liveliness. 

It  was  a  week  of  carol-singing  in  the  streets, 
of  comedies  performed  by  strolling  bands  of 
children,  masses,  and  concerts  in  the  plaza.  On 
Christmas  afternoon  we  went  out  to  the  track  to 
see  the  bicycle  races,  which  at  that  time  were  a 
fad  among  the  Filipinos.  The  little  band  played 
in  the  grand-stand,  and  the  people  cheered  the 
racers  as  they  came  laboriously  around  the  turn. 
The  meet  was  engineered  by  some  American,  but, 
from  a  standpoint  of  close  finishes,  left  much  to  be 
desired.  The  market-place  on  Christmas  eve  was 
lighted  by  a  thousand  lanterns,  and  the  little  peo- 


66  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

pie  wandered  among  the  booths,  smoking  their 
cigarettes  and  eating  peanuts.  Until  early  morn- 
ing the  incessant  shuffling  in  the  streets  kept  up, 
for  every  one  had  gone  to  midnight  mass. 
Throughout  the  town  the  strumming  of  guitars, 
the  voices  of  children,  and  the  blare  of  the  brass 
band  was  heard,  and  the  next  morning  Jack-pud- 
ding danced  on  the  corner  to  the  infinite  amuse- 
ment of  the  crowd.  As  for  our  own  celebration, 
that  was  held  in  the  back  room  of  a  local  restau- 
rant, the  Christmas  dinner  consisting  of  canned 
turkey  and  canned  cranberry-sauce,  canned  vege- 
tables, and  ice-cream  made  of  condensed  milk. 


CHAPTER    V. 

ON  SUMMER  SEAS. 

THE  foolish  little  steamer  Romulus  never  ex- 
actly knew  when  she  was  going,  whither  away,  or 
where.  The  cargo  being  under  hatches,  all  re- 
gardless of  the  advertised  time  of  departure, 
whether  the  passengers  were  notified  or  not,  she 
would  stand  clumsily  down  stream  and  out  to  sea. 
The  captain,  looking  like  a  pirate  in  his  Tarn 
o'Shanter  cap,  or  the  pink  little  mate  with  the 
suggestion  of  a  mustache  on  his  upper  lip,  if  they 
had  been  informed  about  sailing  hour,  were  never 
willing  to  divulge  the  secret.  If  you  tried  to  argue 
the  matter  with  them  or  impress  them  with  a 
sense  of  their  responsibility;  if  you  attempted  to 
explain  the  obvious  advantages  of  starting  within, 
say,  twenty-four  hours  of  the  stated  time,  they 
would  turn  wearily  away,  irreprehensible,  with  a 
protesting  gesture. 

Not  even  excepting  the  Inland  Sea,  that 
dreamy  waterway  among  the  grottoes,  pines,  and 

67 


68  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

torn  of  picturesque  Japan,  there  is  no  sea  so  beau- 
tiful as  that  around  the  Southern  Philippines. 
The  stately  mountains,  that  go  sweeping  by  in 
changing  shades  of  green  or  blue,  appeal  directly 
to  the  imagination.  Unpopulated  islands — islands 
of  which  some  curious  myths  are  told  of  wild 
white  races  far  in  the  interior;  of  spirits  haunt- 
ing mountain-side  and  vale;  volcanoes,  in  a  low- 
ering cloud  of  sulphurous  smoke;  narrows,  and 
wave-lashed  promontories,  where  the  ships  can  not 
cross  in  the  night;  great  mounds  of  foliage  that 
tower  in  silence  hardly  a  stone's  throw  from  the 
ship,  like  some  wild  feature  of  a  dream, — such  are 
the  characteristics  of  the  archipelago. 

The  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  the  tempered 
winds,  the  sense  of  being  alone  in  an  untravelecl 
wilderness,  made  up  in  part  for  the  discomforts 
of  the  Romulus.  The  tropical  sunsets,  staining 
the  sky  until  the  whole  west  was  a  riot  of  color, 
fiery  red  and  gold;  the  false  dawn,  and  the  sun- 
rise breaking  the  ramparts  of  dissolving  cloud ; 
the  moonlight  on  the  waters,  where  the  weird 
beams  make  a  shimmering  path  that  leads  away 
across  the  planet  waste  to  terra  incognita,  or  to 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  69 

some  dank  sea-cave  where  the  sirens  sing, — this  is 
a  day  and  a  night  upon  the  summer  seas. 

At  night,  as  the  black  prow  goes  pushing 
through  the  phosphorescent  waters,  porpoises  of 
solid  silver,  puffing  desperately,  tumble  about  the 
bows,  or  dive  down  underneath  the  rushing  hull. 
The  surging  waves  are  billows  of  white  fire.  In 
the  electric  moonlight  the  blue  mountains,  more 
mysterious  than  ever,  stand  out  in  bold  relief. 
What  restless  tribes  of  savages  are  wandering 
now  through  the  trackless  forests,  sleeping  in 
lofty  trees,  or  in  some  scanty  shelter  amid  the 
tangled  underbrush !  The  light  that  flickers  in 
the  distant  gorge,  perchance  illumines  some  re- 
ligious orgy — some  impassioned  dance  of  primi- 
tive and  pagan  men.  What  spirits  are  abroad  to- 
night, invoked  at  savage  altars  by  the  incantations 
of  the  savage  priests — spirits  of  trees  and  rivers 
emanating  from  the  hidden  shrines  of  an  almighty 
one !  Or  it  may  be  that  the  light  comes  from  an 
isolated  leper  settlement,  where  the  unhappy  mor- 
tals spend  in  loneliness  their  dreary  lives. 

On  the  first  trip  of  the  Romulus  I  was  as- 
signed to  a  small,  mildewed,  stuffy  cabin,  where 


70  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

the  unsubstantial,  watery  roaches  played  at  hide- 
and-seek  around  the  wash-stand  and  the  floor.  It 
was  a  splendid  night  to  sleep  on  deck ;  and  so,  pro- 
tected from  the  stiff  breeze  by  the  flapping  can- 
vas, on  an  army  cot  which  the  muchacho  had 
stretched  out,  I  went  to  sleep,  my  thoughts  in- 
stinctively running  into  verse : 

"The  wind  was  just  as  steady,  and  the  vessel  tumbled 

more, 

But  the  waves  were  not  as  boist'rous  as  they  were  the 
day  before." 

It  was  the  rhythm  of  the  sea,  the  good  ship  rising 
on  the  waves,  the  cats'-paws  flying  into  gusts  of 
spray  before  the  driving  wind. 

I  was  awakened  at  four  bells  by  the  disturb- 
ance of  the  sailors  swabbing  down  the  deck — an 
exhibition  performance,  as  the  general  condition 
of  the  ship  led  me  to  think.  Breakfast  was  served 
down  in  the  forward  cabin,  where,  with  deep-sea 
appetites,  we  eagerly  attacked  a  tiny  cup  of  choc- 
olate, very  sweet  and  thick,  a  glass  of  coffee 
thinned  with  condensed  milk,  crackers,  and  lady- 
fingers.  That  was  all.  Some  of  our  fellow-pas- 
sengers had  been  there  early,  as  the  dirty  table- 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  71 

cloth  and  dishes  testified.  A  Filipino  woman  at 
the  further  end  was  engaged  in  dressing  a  baby, 
while  the  provincial  treasurer,  in  his  pink  pajamas, 
tried  to  shave  before  the  dingy  looking-glass.  An 
Indian  merchant,  a  Viscayan  belle  with  dirty  fin- 
ger-nails and  ankles,  and  a  Filipino  justice  of  the 
peace  still  occupied  the  table.  Reaching  a  vacant 
place  over  the  piles  of  rolled-up  sleeping  mats  and 
camphorwood  boxes — the  inevitable  baggage  of 
the  Filipino — I  swept  off  the  crumbs  upon  the 
floor,  and,  after  much  persuasion,  finally  secured 
a  glass  of  lukewarm  coffee  and  some  broken  cakes. 
The  heavy-eyed  muchacho,  who,  with  such  reluc- 
tance waited  on  the  table,  had  the  grimiest  feet 
that  I  had  ever  seen. 

A  second  meal  was  served  at  ten  o'clock,  for 
which  the  tables  were  spread  on  deck.  The  plates 
were  stacked  up  like  Chinese  pagodas,  and 
counting  them,  you  could  determine  accurately 
the  number  of  courses  on  the  bill  of  fare.  There 
were  about  a  dozen  courses  of  fresh  meat  and 
chicken — or  the  same  thing  cooked  in  different 
styles.  Garlic  and  peppers  were  used  liberally  in 
the  cooking.  Heaps  of  boiled  rice,  olives,  and 


72  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

sausage  that  defied  the  teeth,  wrapped  up  in  tin- 
foil, "took  the  taste  out  of  your  mouth."  Bananas, 
mangoes,  cheese,  and  guava- jelly  constituted  the 
dessert.  After  the  last  plate  had  been  removed, 
the  grizzled  captain  at  the  head  of  the  table 
lighted  a  coarse  cigarette,  which,  in  accordance 
with  the  Spanish  custom,  he  then  passed  to  the 
mate,  so  that  the  mate  could  light  his  cigarette. 
This  is  a  more  polite  way  than  to  make  an  offer 
of  a  match.  Coffee  and  cognac  was  brought  on 
after  a  considerable  interval.  Although  this  proc- 
ess was  repeated  course  for  course  at  eight  o'clock, 
during  the  interim  you  found  it  was  best  to  bribe 
the  steward  and  eat  an  extra  meal  of  crackers. 

Our  next  voyage  in  the  Romulus  was  unpro- 
pitious  from  the  start.  We  were  detained  five 
days  in  quarantine  in  Manila  Bay.  There  was 
no  breeze,  and  the  hot  sun  beat  down  upon  the 
boat  all  day.  To  add  to  our  discomforts,  there 
was  nothing  much  to  eat.  The  stock  of  lady-fin- 
gers soon  became  exhausted,  and  the  stock  of 
crackers,  too,  showed  signs  of  running  out.  As 
an  experiment  I  ordered  eggs  for  breakfast  once 
— but  only  once.  The  cook  had  evidently  tried 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  73 

to  serve  them  in  disguise,  believing  that  a  large 
amount  of  cold  grease  would  in  some  way  modify 
their  taste.  He  did  not  seem  to  have  the  least  re- 
spect for  old  age.  It  was  the  time  of  cholera ;  the 
boat  might  have  become  a  pesthouse  any  moment. 
But  the  steward  assured  us  that  the  drinking  wa- 
ter had  been  neither  boiled  nor  filtered.  There 
was  no  ice,  and  no  more  bottled  soda,  the  remain- 
ing bottles  being  spoken  for  by  the  ship's  officers. 
At  the  breakfast-table  two  calves  and  a  pig,  that 
had  been  taken  on  for  fresh  meat,  insisted  upon 
eating  from  the  plates.  The  sleepy-eyed  muchacho 
was  by  this  time  grimier  than  ever.  Even  the 
passengers  did  not  have  any  opportunity  to  take 
a  bath.  One  glance  at  the  ship's  bathtub  was 
sufficient. 

It  was  a  happy  moment  when  we  finally  set 
out  for  the  long  rambling  voyage  to  the  southern 
isles.  The  captain  went  barefooted  as  he  paced  the 
bridge.  A  stop  at  one  place  in  the  Camarines  gave 
us  a  chance  to  go  ashore  and  buy  some  bread  and 
canned  fruit  from  the  military  commissary.  How 
the  captain  and  the  mate  scowled  as  we  supple- 
mented our  elaborate  meals  with  these  purchases ! 


74  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

One  of  the  passengers,  a  miner,  finally  exasperated 
at  the  cabin-boy,  made  an  attack  upon  the  luck- 
less fellow,  when  the  steward,  who  had  been  want- 
ing an  excuse  to  exploit  his  authority,  came  up 
the  hatchway  bristling.  In  his  Spanish  jargon 
he  explained  that  he  considered  it  as  his  preroga- 
tive to  punish  and  abuse  the  luckless  boy,  which 
he  did  very  capably  at  times;  that  he  would  tol- 
erate no  interference  from  the  passengers.  But 
the  big  miner  only  looked  him  over  like  a  cock-of- 
the-walk  regarding  a  game  bantam.  Being  a  Cal- 
ifornian,  the  miner  told  the  steward  in  English 
(which  that  officer  unfortunately  did  not  under- 
stand) that  if  the  service  did  not  presently  im- 
prove, the  steward  and  cabin-boy  together  would 
go  overboard. 

Stopping  at  Dumaguete,  Oriental  Negros, 
where  we  landed  several  teachers,  with  their 
trunks  and  furniture,  upon  the  hot  sands,  most 
of  us  went  ashore  in  surf-boats,  paddled  by  the 
kind  of  men  that  figure  prominently  in  the  school 
geographies.  It  was  a  chapter  from  "Swiss  Fam- 
ily Robinson," — the  white  surf  lashing  the  long 
yellow  beach;  the  rakish  palm-trees  bristling  in 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  75 

the  wind;  a  Stygian  volcano  rising-  above  a  slope 
of  tropic  foliage;  the  natives  gathering  around, 
all  open-mouthed  with  curiosity.  At  Camaguin, 
where  the  boat  stopped  at  the  sultry  little  city 
of  Mambajo,  an  accident  befell  our  miner.  When 
we  found  him,  he  was  sleeping  peacefully  under 
a  nipa  shade,  guarded  by  a  municipal  policeman, 
with  the  ring  of  Filipinos  clustering  around.  He 
had  been  drinking  native  "bino"  (wine),  and  it 
had  been  too  much  even  for  him,  a  discharged  sol- 
dier and  a  Calif ornian. 

It  was  almost  a  pleasant  change,  the  transfer 
to  the  tiny  launch  Victoria,  that  smelled  of  engine 
oil  and  Filipinos,  and  was  commanded  by  my  old 
friend  Dumalagon.  The  Victoria  at  that  time  had 
a  most  unpleasant  habit  of  lying  to  all  night,  and 
sailing  with  the  early  dawn.  When  I  had  found 
an  area  of  deck  unoccupied  by  feet  or  Filipino 
babies,  Chinamen  or  ants,  I  spread  an  army  blan- 
ket out  and  went  to  sleep  in  spite  of  the  incessant 
drizzle  which  the  rotten  canopy  seemed  not  to  in- 
terrupt. I  was  awakened  in  the  small  hours  by 
the  rattle  of  the  winch.  These  little  boats  make 
more  ado  in  getting  under  way  than  any  ocean 


76  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

steamer  I  have  ever  known.  Becoming  conscious 
of  a  cloud  of  opium-smoke  escaping  from  the 
cockpit,  which  was  occupied  by  several  Chinamen, 
I  shifted  to  windward,  stepping  over  the  sprawl- 
ing forms  of  sleepers  till  I  found  another  place, 
the  only  objection  to  which  was  the  proximity 
of  numerous  brown  feet  and  the  hot  engine-room. 
The  squalling  of  an  infant  ushered  in  the  rosy- 
fingered  dawn. 

Most  of  the  transportation  of  the  southern 
islands  is  accomplished  by  such  boats  as  the  Vic- 
toria. I  can  remember  well  the  nights  spent  on 
the  launch  Da-ling-ding,  an  impossible,  absurd 
craft,  that  rolled  from  side  to  side  in  the  most 
gentle  sea.  She  would  start  out  courageously  to 
cross  the  bay  along  the  strip  of  Moro  coast  in 
Northern  Mindanao;  but  the  throbbing  of  her 
engines  growing  weaker  and  weaker,  she  would 
presently  turn  back  faint-hearted,  unable  to  make 
headway,  at  the  mercy  of  a  sudden  storm,  and 
with  the  possibility  of  being  swept  up  on  a  hostile 
shore  among  bloodthirsty  and  unreasonable  Mo- 
ros.  Another  time,  and  we  were  caught  in  a  ty- 
phoon off  the  north  coast.  We  thought,  of  course, 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  77 

our  little  ship  was  stanch,  until  we  asked  the  cap- 
tain his  opinion.  "If  the  engines  hold  out,"  he  re- 
plied, "we  may  come  through  all  right.  The  en- 
gineer says  that  the  old  machine  will  probably 
blow  up  now  any  time,  and  that  the  Filipinos  have 
quit  working  and  begun  their  prayers."  Generally 
a  Filipino  is  the  first  to  give  up  in  a  crisis ;  but  I 
have  seen  some  that  managed  their  canoes  in  a 
rough  sea  with  as  much  skill  and  coolness  as  an 
expert  yachtsman  could  have  shown.  I  have  to 
thank  Madrono  for  the  way  in  which  he  handled 
the  small  boat  that  put  out  in  a  sea  like  glass  and 
ran  into  a  squall  fifteen  miles  out.  All  through 
the  morning  we  had  poled  along  over  the  crust  of 
coral  bottom,  where,  in  the  transparent  water, 
indigo  fishes  swam,  where  purple  starfish  sprawled 
among  the  coral — coral  of  many  colors  and  in 
many  forms.  But  as  the  wind  came  up  and  lashed 
the  choppy  sea  to  whitecaps,  as  the  huge  waves 
swept  along  and  seemed  about  to  knock  the  little 
banco,  "off  her  feet,"  Madrono,  standing  on  the 
bamboo  outrigger — a  framework  lashed  together 
with  the  native  cane,  the  breaking  of  which  would 
have  immediately  upset  the  boat — kept  her  bow 


78  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

pointed  for  the  shore,  although  a  counter  storm 
threatened  to  blow  us  out  to  the  deep  sea. 

So,  after  knocking  around  in  bancas,  picnick- 
ing with  natives  on  the  chicken-bone  and  boiled 
rice;  after  a  wild  cruise  in  the  Thomas,  where  the 
captain  and  the  crew,  as  drunk  as  lords,  let  the  old 
rotten  vessel  drift,  while  threatening  with  a  gun 
the  man  that  dared  to  meddle  with  the  steering 
gear;  after  a  dreary  six  months  in  a  provincial 
town,  —  it  seemed  like  coming  into  a  new 
world  to  step  aboard  the  clean  white  transport, 
with  electric-lights  and  an  upholstered  smoking- 
room. 

A  tourist  party,  mostly  army  officers,  their 
wives  and  daughters,  "doing"  the  archipelago, 
made  up  the  passenger  list  of  the  transport.  The 
officers,  now  they  had  settled  satisfactorily  the 
question  of  superiority  and  "rank,"  made  an 
agreeable  company.  There  was  the  Miss  Bo 
Peep,  in  pink  and  white,  who  wore  a  dozen  differ- 
ent military  pins,  and  would  not  look  at  any  one 
unless  he  happened  to  be  "in  the  service."  Like 
many  of  the  army  girls,  she  had  no  use  for  the 
civilians  or  volunteers.  Her  mamma  told  with 


ON  SUMMER  SEAS.  79 

pride  how,  at  their  last  "at  home,"  nobody  under 
the  rank  of  a  major  had  been  present.  One  of  the 
young  lieutenants  down  at  Zamboanga,  when  he 
found  she  had  not  worn  his  pin,  "retired  to  cry." 
But  then,  of  course,  Bo  Peep  was  not  respon- 
sible for  young  lieutenants'  hearts.  If  he  had 
been  a  captain — well,  that  is  another  thing.  There 
was  the  English  sugar-planter  from  the  Tawi- 
Tawi  group,  who  never  lost  sight  of  the  ranking 
officer,  who  dressed  in  flannels,  changed  his 
clothes  three  times  a  day,  and  who  expressed  his 
only  ideas  to  me  by  virtue  of  a  confidential  wink. 
For  three  whole  days  we  were  a  part  of  the 
fresh  winds,  the  tossing  waves,  the  moon  and 
stars.  And  as  the  ship  plowed  through  the  sea 
at  night,  the  phosphorescent  surge  retreated  like 
a  line  of  silver  fire. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES. 

WITH  Padre  Cipriano  I  had  started  out  on 
horseback  from  the  little  trading  station  on  Da- 
vao  Bay.  We  were  to  strike  along  the  east  coast, 
in  the  territory  of  the  fierce  Mandayas,  and  to 
penetrate  some  distance  into  the  interior  in  order 
to  convert  the  pagans  with  the  long  eyelashes 
who  inhabited  this  unknown  region.  It  was  a 
clear  day  when  we  set  out  on  our  missionary 
enterprise,  and  we  could  see  the  black  peak  of 
Mount  Apo,  which,  according  to  the  legends  of 
the  wild  Bagobos,  is  the  throne  of  the  great  King 
of  Devils,  and  the  gate  to  hell. 

We  struck  a  faint  trr.il  leading  to  the  foot-hills 
where  the  barren  ridges  overlooked  the  sparkling 
sea — a  vast  cerulian  expanse  without  a  single 
fleck  of  a  white  sail.  The  trail  led  through  the 
great  fields  of  buffalo-grass,  out  of  which  gigantic 
solitary  trees  shot  up  a  hundred  feet  into  the 
air.  There  were  no  signs  of  life,  only  the  vul- 

80 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  81 

tures  in  the  topmost  branches  of  the  trees.  Wild 
horses,  taking  flight  at  our  approach,  stampeded 
for  the  forest.  Nothing  could  be  seen  in  the  tall 
grass.  Even  in  our  saddles  it  was  higher  than  our 
heads.  The  trail  became  more  rugged  as  we  en- 
tered the  big  belt  of  forest  on  the  foot-hills.  A 
wild  hog  bolted  for  the  jungle  with  distressed 
grunts.  It  was  a  world  of  white  vines  falling 
from  the  lofty  branches  of  the  trees.  The  animal 
life  in  some  of  the  great  trees  was  wonderful. 
The  branches  were  divided  into  zones,  wherein 
each  class  of  bird  or  reptile  had  its  habitat. 
Around  the  base  were  galleries  of  white  ants. 
Flying  lizards  from  the  gnarled  trunk  skated 
through  the  air.  Green  reptiles  crawled  along  the 
horizontal  branches.  Parrakeets,  a  colony  of 
saucy  green  and  red  balls,  screamed  and  protested 
from  the  lower  zones.  An  agile  monkey  swung 
from  one  of  the  long  sweeping  vines,  and  scolded 
at  us  from  another  tree.  Bats,  owls,  and  crows 
inhabited  the  upper  regions,  while  the  buzzards 
perched  like  evil  omens  in  the  topmost  boughs. 

Just  when  our  throats  were  parched  from  lack 
of  water,  we  discovered  a  small  mountain  torrent 


82  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

gushing  over  the  rocks  and  bowlders  of  the  rugged 
slope.  Leaning  across  one  of  the  large  bowlders, 
from  a  dark  pool  where  the  sunlight  never  pene- 
trated, we  scooped  up  refreshing  hatfuls  of  the 
ice-cold  water.  Here  was  the  world  as  God  first 
found  it,  when  he  said  that  it  was  good.  It  was 
impressive  and  mysterious.  It  seemed  to  wrap  us 
in  a  mystic  spell.  What  wonder  that  the  pagan 
tribes  that  roamed  through  the  interior  had  peo- 
pled it  with  gods  and  spirits  of  the  chase,  and 
that  the  trees  and  rivers  seemed  to  them  the  spirits 
of  the  good  or  evil  deities?  The  note  of  the 
wood-pigeon  sounded  on  the  right.  The  padre 
smiled  as  he  looked  up.  "That  is  a  favorable 
omen,"  he  declared.  "In  the  religion  of  the  river- 
dwellers,  the  Bagobos,  when  the  wood-dove  calls, 
it  is  the  voice  of  God.  Hark !  It  is  coming  from 
the  right.  It  is  a  favorable  sign,  and  we  can  go 
upon  our  journey  undisturbed.  But  had  we  heard 
it  on  the  left,  it  would  have  been  to  us  a  warning 
to  turn  back.  Our  journey  then  would  have  been 
unpropitious,  and  we  would  have  been  afraid  to 
go  on  farther." 

"Does  it  not  seem  like  a  grand  cathedral," 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  83 

said  the  padre,  "this  vast  forest?  In  the  days 
when  Northern  Europe  was  a  wilderness  and 
savage  people  hunted  in  the  forests;  in  the 
days  when  the  undaunted  Norsemen  braved  the 
stormy  ocean  in  their  daring  craft, — here,  in  these 
woods,  the  petty  chiefs  and  head  men  held  their 
courts  of  justice  after  the  traditions  of  their  tribes, 
just  as  they  do  to-day.  Here  they  have  set  their 
traps — the  arrows  loosened  from  a  bamboo  spring 
— and  while  they  waited,  they  have  left  the  offer- 
ing of  eggs  and  rice  for  the  good  deity.  Here 
they  have  hunted  their  blood  enemies,  lying  in 
ambush,  or  digging  pitfalls  where  the  sharpened 
stakes  were  planted.  Tama,  the  god  of  venery, 
has  lured  -the  deer  into  their  traps ;  Tumanghob, 
god  of  harvest,  whom  they  have  invited  to  their 
feasts,  has  made  the  corn  and  the  camotes  prosper ; 
Mansilitan,  the  great  spirit,  has  descended  from 
the  mountain-tops  and  aided  them  against  their 
enemies." 

We  knew  that  it  was  growing  late  by  the  deep 
shadows  of  the  woods.  So,  taking  our  bearings 
with  a  pocket  compass,  we  turned  east  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  coast.  There  was  no  trail  to  fol- 


84  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

low,  and  we  blundered  on  as  best  we  could.  We 
had  now  been  in  the  saddle  for  ten  hours.  The 
ponies  stumbled  frequently,  for  they  were  almost 
spent.  The  moon  rose,  and  the  hoary  mountain 
loomed  up  just  ahead  of  us.  "We  seem  to  be  lost," 
said  the  padre;  "that  is  a  strange  peak  to  me." 
But  nevertheless  we  kept  on  toward  the  east. 
Soon  we  had  passed  beyond  the  forest,  which  ap- 
peared behind  us  a  great  dusky  belt.  The  numer- 
ous rocks  and  crags  made  progress  difficult,  al- 
most impossible. 

"Look!"  said  the  padre,  "do  you  see  that 
light?"  We  tethered  the  ponies  at  a  distance, 
crept  up  stealthily  behind  the  rocks,  and  recon- 
noitered.  And  what  we  looked  on  was  the  strang- 
est sight  that  ever  mortal  eyes  beheld.  It  was 
like  living  again  in  the  Dark  Ages — in  the  days 
before  the  sages  and  the  sun-myth.  It  was  like 
turning  back  the  leaves  of  history — back  to  the 
legendary,  prehistoric  times. 

A  lofty  grove  encircled  a  chaotic  mass  of  rock. 
The  clearing  was  illuminated  by  the  flaring 
torches  carried  by  a  dusky  band  of  men.  Weird 
shadows  leaped  and  played  in  the  dense  foliage, 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  85 

where,  high  above  the  ground,  rude  shelters  had 
been  made  in  the  thick  branches  of  the  trees.  The 
form  of  a  woman,  flashing  with  silver  trinkets 
when  the  rays  of  light  fell  on  her,  was  descending 
from  a  tree  by  means  of  a  long  parasitic  vine. 
Around  the  palm-leaf  huts  that  occupied  the  cen- 
ter of  the  amphitheater,  an  altar  of  bamboo  had 
been  erected.  We  could  see,  in  the  dim  light,  rude 
images  of  idols  standing  in  front  of  every  hut 
and  near  the  altar. 

As  our  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom, 
we  could  make  out  the  forms  of  men  and  women, 
dressed  in  brilliant  colors  and  with  silver  bracelets 
on  their  arms.  In  silence  we  crept  closer.  The 
crowd  was  visibly  excited.  It  was  evident  that 
something  of  a  solemn  and  extraordinary  nature 
was  about  to  be  performed.  There  were  the  chief 
assassins,  so  the  padre  whispered  to  me,  who 
were  decorated  savagely,  according  to  the  num- 
ber of  victims  each  had  slain.  The  ordinary  men 
wore  open  vests  or  jackets  and  loose  pantaloons. 
The  women,  evidently  decked  out  with  a  com- 
plement of  finery  in  honor  of  the  celebration, 
wore  short  aprons  reaching  to  the  knee.  Some 


86  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

wore  gold  collars  around  their  necks  and  silver- 
embroidered  slippers  on  their  feet.  Their  bare 
arms  sparkled  with  the  coils  of  silver  bands  and 
bracelets  that  encircled  them,  while  silver  anklets 
jingled  with  the  movement  of  their  feet.  They 
had  red  tassels  in  their  hair,  and  earrings  made  of 
pieces  of  carved  bone.  A  number  of  dancing- 
girls,  as  they  appeared  to  be,  had  strings  of  red 
and  yellow  beads  or  animals'  teeth  fastened 
around  their  necks.  Their  breasts  were  covered 
with  short  bodices  that  fell  so  as  to  leave  a  por- 
tion of  the  waist  exposed 

The  chief  assassins  were  completely  clad  in 
scarlet,  indicating  that  the  wearer  had  disposed 
of  more  than  twenty  enemies.  The  lesser  assas- 
sins wore  yellow  handkerchiefs  around  their  heads, 
and  some  were  dignified  with  scarlet  vests.  A 
miserable  naked  slave  was  pinioned  where  he  had 
been  thrown  upon  the  ground  near  by.  Although 
of  the  inferior  race  of  the  Bilanes  from  Lake 
Buluan,  his  eyes  flashed  as  he  regarded  the  assem- 
bled people  scornfully.  They  were  to  offer  up  a 
human  sacrifice  to  Mansilitan,  the  all-powerful 
god. 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  87 

The  head  men  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a 
dispute.  A  wild  hog,  also  lying  near  the  altar, 
was  the  object  of  their  serious  attention.  After 
they  had  chattered  for  a  while,  and  having  evi- 
dently decided  on  the  pig,  the  drums  and  tam- 
bourines struck  up  a  doleful  melody,  and  those 
assembled  joined  in  a  solemn  chant.  The  pig 
was  carefully  lifted  to  the  altar,  and  the  chant 
grew  more  intensified.  A  number  of  dancing- 
girls,  describing  mystic  circles  with  their  jeweled 
arms,  were  trembling  violently,  bending  rhyth- 
mically, gracefully  from  side  to  side.  The  music 
seemed  to  hypnotize  the  people,  who  kept  shuf- 
fling with  their  feet  monotonously  on  the  ground. 
The  leader  of  the  dance  then  stuck  the  living  pig 
with  a  sharp  dagger.  As  the  red  blood  spurted 
out,  she  caught  a  mouthful  of  it,  and  applying 
her  mouth  quickly  to  the  wound,  she  sucked  the 
fluid  till  she  reeled  and  fell  away.  Another  fol- 
lowed her  example,  and  another,  till  the  pig  was 
drained. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  fancy  a  like  orgy 
with  the  quivering  slave  upon  the  altar  in  the 
place  of  the  wild  hog.  The  spirit  of  Mansilitan 


88  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

then  came  down — the  spirit  was,  of  course,  in- 
visible— and  talked  with  the  head  men  about  their 
enemies,  the  crops,  and  game.  The  chiefs  were 
chewing  cinnamon  and  betel  till  their  mouths 
were  red.  The  master  of  ceremonies  then  brought 
out  enormous  quantities  of  tuba,  and  his  guests 
completed  the  religious  ceremony  with  a  whole- 
sale drunk. 

Under  the  cover  of  the  darkness,  Padre 
Cipriano  and  I  slipped  away.  We  shuddered  at 
what  we  had  just  seen,  and  were  silent.  Leading 
the  ponies  a  short  distance  into  the  brush,  we  slept 
upon  the  blankets  which  the  ponies  had  com- 
pletely saturated  with  their  persiration.  All  night 
we  dreamed  of  human  sacrifices  and  the  warm 
blood  spurting  from  the  victim's  breast.  .  .  . 
They  had  the  padre  now  upon  the  altar,  and  the 
chief  had  bidden  me  to  take  the  knife  and  draw 
his  blood.  But  the  great  god — a  creature  with 
the  horns  of  a  bull  carabao — descended,  crying 
that  the  enemy  was  now  upon  us  and  the  crops 
had  failed.  From  our  uneasy  sleep  the  crowing 
of  the  jungle-fowl  awakened  us,  and  for  the  first 
time  we  expressed  ourselves  in  words.  "Padre," 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  89 

I  said,  "it 's  just  like  being  in  a  book  of  Du 
Chaillu's  or  Rider  Haggard's;"  and  the  padre 
smiled. 

After  the  ponies,  who  were  very  stiff,  were 
limbered  up  a  bit,  we  traveled  on  in  the  direction 
of  the  sea.  We  stopped  beside  a  mountain  stream 
to  bathe  and  eat  a  breakfast  of  canned  sausages. 
That  afternoon  we  rode  into  a  small  Mandaya 
settlement,  where  the  head  man  showed  Padre 
Cipriano  every  courtesy  at  his  command.  They 
listened  eagerly  to  Padre  Cipriano,  who  could 
speak  their  language  well,  as  he  explained  to  them 
about  another  Mansilitan,  greatest  God  of  all.  A 
number  of  them  even  consented  to  be  baptized; 
but  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  the  conversion 
was  at  best  a  transient  one.  The  head  man  or- 
dered that  his  runners  bring  into  the  village  of 
Davao  for  the  padre  gifts  of  game,  wild  hog,  deer, 
and  jungle-fowl,  and,  after  the  padre  had  pre- 
sented him  with  several  strings  of  green  and  yel- 
low beads — for  the  Mandayas  have  no  use  for 
black  beads  as  their  neighbors,  the  Manobos  have 
—we  took  our  departure,  guided  to  the  trail  by  a 
distinguished  warrior. 
7 


90  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

During  our  sojourn  in  the  settlement  we 
picked  up  many  curious  and  interesting  facts. 
Like  most  of  the  wild  tribes  of  Mindanao,  that  of 
the  Mandayas  is  athletic  and  robust.  The  faces 
of  the  men  are  somewhat  girlish  and  effeminate, 
while  the  expressions  of  the  warriors  are  unique. 
Upon  their  countenances  cunning,  cruelty,  and 
diabolical  resource  are  stamped  indelibly.  In 
front  of  every  house  a  wooden  idol  stands,  while 
inside,  on  a  little  table,  is  a  smaller  image  over- 
whelmed by  gifts  of  fruit  and  rice,  which  mem- 
bers of  the  family  continually  leave  upon  the 
shrine.  A  tiny  sack  of  rice  hangs  from  the  idol's 
neck,  and  betel-nuts  for  him  to  chew  are  placed 
where  they  are  easily  accessible.  During  the  prep- 
aration of  the  evening  meal,  one  of  the  family 
will  play  upon  a  native  instrument,  dancing 
meamvhile  around  the  room,  and  lifting  up  his 
voice  in  supplication  to  the  deity. 

The  petty  ruler  or  head  man  is  chosen  by  a 
natural  process  of  selection.  He  is  invariably  one 
who,  by  his  prowess  and  intelligence,  commands 
the  respect  and  the  obedience  of  all.  Assisted  by 
a  local  justice  of  the  peace,  a  bailiff,  and  a  secre- 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  91 

tary,  he  conducts  affairs  according  to  the  old  tra- 
ditions handed  down  almost  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world.  The  families  live  together,  'thus 
preserving  clans,  while  blood  feuds  with  the 
neighboring  clans  or  tribes  lead  to  a  system  of 
perpetual  extermination,  which  will  be  continued 
till  the  tribe  becomes  extinct.  And  if  the  enemy 
himself  can  not  be  killed,  the  nearest  relative  or 
friend  will  satisfy  the  aggressor's  hatred  just  as 
well.  Cannibalism  has  been  practiced  in  this  tribe 
with  fearful  and  disgusting  rites.  The  human 
sacrifices  that  they  make  appease  not  only  the 
great  spirit,  but  the  lesser  ones,  the  man  and  wife, 
or  evil  spirits,  and  the  father  and  son,  good 
spirits.  When  they  go  to  war,  the  fighting  men 
use  lances,  swords,  and  bows  and  arrows.  On 
their  wooden  shields,  daubed  over  with  red  paint, 
arranged  around  the  edges  like  a  fringe,  are  tufts 
of  hair — the  souvenirs  of  men  whom  they  have 
killed.  Their  coats  of  mail  are  made  of  carabao 
horn  cut  into  small  plates,  or  of  pieces  of  rattan. 
The  only  use  they  have  for  money  is  to  make 
it  into  decorations  and  embellishments  for  their 
most  valued  weapons,  anklets  and  rings  and  col- 


92  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

lars,  which  they  wear  without  discrimination. 
They  are  a  very  imaginative  and  a  superstitious 
people.  From  their  infancy  they  are  familiar 
with  the  dwarfs,  the  giants,  and  the  witches, 
which,  according  to  the  tales  of  the  old  women, 
haunt  the  woods.  A  crocodile  that  lives  down  in 
the  center  of  the  earth  causes  the  earthquakes, 
and,  to  put  a  stop  to  these,  the  crocodiles  must 
be  persuaded  by  religious  incantations  to  go  back 
to  bed.  A  solar  eclipse  threatens  a  great  calamity 
to  them,  and  they  are  sure  that  if  they  do  not 
frighten  away  the  serpent  who  is  trying  to  devour 
the  sun,  their  land  will  never  see  the  morning 
light  again.  To  this  end  they  unite  in  beating 
drums  and  making  a  loud  noise  with  sticks.  , 

They  bury  their  dead  in  coffins  made  of  hol- 
lowed logs.  A  pot  of  rice  and  the  familiar  wea- 
pons will  be  placed  within  the  grave,  so  that  the 
soul  will  have  protection  and  a  food  supply  for 
the  long  journey.  And,  like  Jacob,  the  prospec- 
tive bridegroom  has  to  serve  the  parents  of  the 
bride  for  five  or  seven  years  before  the  marriage 
ceremony  can  take  place.  The  marriage-ties  are 
sacred  even  with  this  savage  race.  The  groom- 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  93 

to-be,  making  from  time  to  time,  gifts  of  wild 
hogs,  rice,  and  weapons  to  the  parents  of  the 
bride-elect,  is  finally  rewarded  with  the  bride,  and 
with  a  dowry  as  well ;  perhaps  a  slave,  a  bucket  of 
tuba,  or  a  silver-mounted  bolo.  The  average 
value  of  a  bride  is  five  or  six  slaves,  which  the 
bridegroom  pays  if  he  is  able.  At  the  marriage 
ceremony  the  contracting  parties  generally  pre- 
sent each  other  with  small  cups  of  rice,  to  signify 
that  they  must  now  endeavor  mutually  to  support 
each  other. 

Among  other  tribes  of  the  interior  of  Min- 
danao, in  the  river  basins  of  the  Salug  and  the 
Agusan,  along  the  east  coast,  and  Davao  Bay, 
and  on  the  mountain  slopes,  are  the  Manobos, 
possibly  of  Indonesian  origin,  kings  of  the  wil- 
derness, inhabiting  the  river  valleys ;  the  intrepid 
Attas,  from  the  slopes  of  the  volcano  Apo;  the 
Bagobos,  with  their  interesting  faces  and  bright 
clothes,  living  to  the  east  of  Apo ;  the  fierce  Dula- 
ganes  of  the  forests,  whom  the  Moros  fear ;  Sam- 
ales,  from  the  island  in  Davao  Bay,  strong, 
bearded  people,  with  big  hands  and  feet;  Bi- 
lanes,  from  Lake  Buluan,  a  wandering,  nomadic 


94  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

race ;  and  the  Monteses  of  the  north,  sun-worship- 
ers and  petty  traders. 

All  of  these  tribes  are  probably  of  Indonesian 
origin,  an  independent  origin  from  that  of  the 
Viscayans,  the  Tagalogs,  the  Negritos,  or  the 
Moros,  but  of  the  same  social  level  with  the  Ma- 
lay-Chinese pagans  of  the  northern  isles. 

I  used  to  see  the  Montese  traders  in  the  mar- 
ket-place of  Cagayan  (Misamis),  their  mobile 
mouths  swimming  with  betel- juice,  with  rings 
and  bracelets  on  their  toes  and  arms,  the  girls 
with  hair  banged  saucily,  adorned  with  bells  and 
tassels,  and  \vith  bodices  inadequately  covering 
the  breasts;  and  as  they  squatted  down  on  the 
woven  mats,  around  the  honey  or  the  wax  they 
had  for  sale,  they  looked  like  gypsies  from  Rou- 
mania  or  Hungary.  The  men  wore  bright,  tight- 
fitting  pantaloons  and  dirty  turbans.  They  re- 
semble the  Moros  somewhat  in  appearance,  and 
have  either  intermingled  with  this  tribe  or  else 
can  trace  their  origin  to  Borneo.  While  they  are 
not  so  wild  or  so  exclusive  as  their  fellow-tribes, 
they  quickly  resent  intrusion  into  their  towns 
or  their  society. 


AMONG  THE  PAGAN  TRIBES.  95 

They  carry  on  a  slave  trade  with  their  neigh- 
bors, stealing  or  kidnaping  from  the  other  tribes, 
and  being  stolen  from  in  turn.  The  women  of 
some  tribes  brand  their  children,  filling  in  the 
wound  with  a  blue  dye,  that  serves  as  an  identi- 
fication if  they  happen  to  be  snatched  away.  The 
various  religious  ideas  of  these  pagans  are  intan- 
gible and  indeterminate.  The  forest  seems  to  be 
the  abiding-place  of  gods.  Some  tribes  will  offer 
feasts  to  these  divinities,  either  leaving  the  flesh 
and  rice  out  in  the  woods  to  find  that  it  has  disap- 
peared next  morning,  or,  in  many  cases,  eating 
it  themselves,  provided  that  the  god,  who  has  been 
earnestly  invited,  fails  to  come.  The  god  of  dis- 
ease is  also  recognized,  and  natives  living  on  the 
coast  have  been  known,  in  the  time  of  cholera,  to 
fill  canoes  with  rice  and  fruit  in  order  to  appease 
this  deity,  and  leave  the  boats  to  drift  out  with 
the  tide. 

Among  the  Bagobos,  curious  traditions  and 
religious  rites  exist.  Every  Bagobo  thinks  he 
has  two  souls  or  spirits ;  one  a  good  one,  and  the 
other  altogether  to  the  bad.  To  them  the  summit 
of  Mount  Apo  is  the  throne  of  the  great  Devil 


96  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

King,  who  watches  over  the  crater  with  his  wife. 
The  crater  is  the  entry-way  to  hell,  and  no  one 
can  ascend  the  mountain  if  he  has  not  previously 
offered  up  a  human  sacrifice,  so  that  the  Devil 
King  may  have  a  taste  of  human  flesh  and  blood, 
and  being  satiated,  will  desire  no  more.  Canni- 
balism has  existed  in  these  regions  more  as  a  re- 
ligious orgy  than  a  means  of  sustenance.  A  dish 
was  made  consisting  of  the  quivering  vitals  of  the 
victim,  mixed  with  sweet  potatoes,  rice,  or  fruit. 
Upon  the  death  of  any  member  of  the  tribe 
the  house  in  which  he  lived  is  burned.  The  body 
is  placed  within  a  hollow  tree,  and  stands  for  sev- 
eral days,  while  a  barbaric  feast  is  held  around  it. 
The  Samales  bury  their  dead  upon  a  coral  island, 
placing  them  in  grottoes,  which  they  visit  annu- 
ally with  harvest  offerings. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  LOST  TRIBE  AND  THE  SERVANTS  OF 
MOHAMMED. 

WANDERING,  always  wandering  through  the 
mountains  and  forests  since  the  years  began, — 
destined  to  .wander  till  the  forests  fall. 

Throughout  the  archipelago,  in  the  dense 
mountain  woods,  sleeping  in  trees  or  on  the 
ground,  straying  away  in  search  of  game,  without 
a  fixed  place  of  abode,  live  the  Negritos,  aborigi- 
nes, the  pigmy  vagrants  of  the  Philippines.  These 
little  men,  molesting  no  one,  yet  considering  the 
rest  of  mankind  as  their  enemy,  and  wishing  only 
to  be  left  alone,  have  hidden  in  the  unexplored  in- 
terior. Where  they  have  come  from  is  a  mystery. 
It  might  have  been  that,  in  the  ages  past,  the 
chain  of  islands  from  Luzon  to  Borneo  was  a  part 
of  Asia,  an  extensive  mountain  system  populated 
by  the  tiny  men  found  there  to-day.  If  so,  then 
they  were  driven  to  the  highlands  by  the  cata- 
clysm that  in  prehistoric  ages  might  have  broken 

97 


98  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

up  the  mainland  into  islands,  leaving  only  the 
summits  of  the  moutains  visible. 

Or  otherwise,  might  not  these  wanderers,  who 
have  their  prototypes  among  the  pigmies  of  dark 
Africa,  or  in  the  dwarfs  inhabiting  New  Guinea 
— might  they  not  have  set  sail  from  Caffraria, 
New  Guinea,  or  the  country  of  the  Papuans,  long 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  like  the  "Jumblies," 
in  their  frail  canoes,  perhaps  escaping  persecution, 
driven  by  the  winds  and  currents,  to  land  at  last 
on  the  unpeopled  shores  of  Filipima? 

In  time  came  the  Malayans  of  low  culture,  now 
the  pagan  tribes  of  the  interior,  and  a  conflict — 
primitive  men  fighting  with  rude  weapons,  clubs, 
and  stones — ensued  for  the  possession  of  the  coast. 
In  that  event  the  smaller  men  were  driven  back 
into  the  territory  that  they  occupy  to-day.  The 
races  intermingled,  and  a  medley  of  strange,  mon- 
grel tribes  resulted.  They  have  wandered,  scat- 
tering themselves  abroad  about  the  islands.  In- 
fluenced by  various  environment,  each  tribe 
adopted  different  customs  and  built  up  from  com- 
mon roots  the  different  dialects.  These  tribes 
have  always  been,  and  always  will  be,  mere  bar- 


NEGRITO  PIGMY  VAGRANTS 


A  LOST  TRIBE;.  99 

barians  and  savages.  In  the  pure  type  of  Negri- 
tos, spindle  legs,  large  turned-in  feet,  weak  bodies, 
and  large  heads  are  noticeable.  Shifting  eyes, 
flat  noses,  kinky  hair,  and  teeth  irregularly  set, — 
these  are  Negrito  characteristics,  though  they  fre- 
quently occur  in  the  mestizo  types.  The  Igorrotes 
of  Luzon,  whose  ancestors  were  possibly  the  abo- 
rigines and  the  worst  element  of  the  invaders, 
are  to-day  the  cannibals  and  the  head-hunters  of 
the  north.  In  Abra,  province  of  Luzon,  the  Bu- 
ries and  their  neighbors,  the  Busaos,  both  of  a 
Negrito-Malay  origin,  use  poisoned  darts,  tattoo 
their  bodies,  and  adorn  themselves  with  copper 
rings  and  caps  of  rattan  decorated  with  bright 
feathers.  The  Manguianes,  of  the  mountains  of 
Mindoro,  dress  in  rattan  coils,  supplemented  with 
a  scanty  apron. 

These  Malayan  races  were,  in  their  turn, 
driven  back  by  later  Malays,  who  became  the 
nucleus  of  the  Tagalog,  Bicol,  Ilocano,  and  Vis- 
cayan  races,  taking  possession  of  the  coast  and 
mouths  of  rivers,  and  governing  themselves,  or 
being  governed  by  hereditary  rajas,  just  as  when, 
three  centuries  ago,  Magellan  and  Legaspi  found 


ioo  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

them.  The  Moros,  or  Mohammedan  invaders, 
were  first  heard  from  when,  in  1597,  Spain  first 
tried  to  organize  them  into  a  dependent  govern- 
ment. These  treacherous  pirates,  the  descendants 
of  the  fierce  Dyacs  of  Borneo,  had  begun  still 
earlier  to  terrorize  the  southern  coasts,  raiding 
the  villages  and  carrying  off  the  children  into 
slavery.  In  1599  a  Moro  fleet  descended  on  the 
coast  of  Negros  and  Panay,  and  would,  no  doubt, 
have  occupied  this  territory  permanently  had  not 
the  arms  of  Spain  been  there  to  interfere.  Here- 
after Spanish  galleons  were  to  oppose  the  progress 
of  these  pirate  fleets,  while  troops  of  infantry  were 
to  defeat  the  savages  on  land.  The  Spaniards 
early  in  the  seventeenth  century  succeeded  in  es- 
tablishing a  foothold  on  the  island  of  Jolo  and  at 
Zamboanga.  It  was  Father  Malchior  de  Vera 
who  designed  the  fort  at  Zamboanga,  which  was 
destined  to  become  the  scene  of  many  an  attack 
by  Moro  warriors,  and  to  be  the  base  of  military 
operations  against  the  surrounding  tribes.  A 
Jesuit  mission  was  established  in  the  sultan's  ter- 
ritory after  the  defeat  of  the  Mohammedans  by 
Corcuera.  In  the  interior,  around  the  shores  of 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  101 

Lake  Lanao,  the  fighting  padre,  Friar  Pedro  de 
San  Augustin,  backing  the  cross  with  Spanish 
infantry,  carried  the  Christian  war  into  the  coun- 
try of  the  infidels,  continuing  the  conflict  that  for 
many  years  had  made  a  battleground  of  Spain. 
It  was  in  memory  of  their  old  enemies,  the  Moors, 
that  when  the  Spaniards  met  the  infidels  in  east- 
ern lands,  they  named  them  Moros  (Moors). 

The  war  between  Spain  and  the  Moros  was 
relentless.  Time  and  again  the  pirates  had  been 
punished  by  the  Spanish  admirals,  until,  in  1725, 
the  sultan  sent  a  Chinese  envoy  to  Manila  to 
negotiate  a  truce.  A  treaty  was  ratified,  but 
broken,  and  again  the  Sulu  Moros  learned  what 
Spanish  hell  was  like.  In  spite  of  this  continual 
warfare  the  Mohammedans  grew  stronger,  and 
in  1754  the  ocean  was  infested  with  the  Moro 
vintas,  till  another  friar,  Father  Ducos,  in 
a  sea-fight  off  the  coast  of  Northern  Min- 
danao, sunk  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  their 
boats  and  killed  three  thousand  men.  Ban- 
tilan,  the  usurper  of  the  Sulu  throne,  was 
one  of  the  foremost  of  the  mischief-makers 
who,  in  1767,  sent  a  pirate  fleet  as  far  north  as 


102  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Manila  Bay.  Although  the  Spaniards  had  re- 
peatedly won  victories  in  Jolo,  Zamboanga,  and 
Davao,  and  by  treaties  had  made  all  this  country 
vassal  to  the  crown  of  Spain,  up  to  the  time  of 
the  evacuation  of  the  Philippines,  when,  as  a 
last  act,  they  had  sent  their  own  tiny  gunboats  to 
the  bottom  of  Lanao,  they  never  had  become  the 
undisputed  masters  of  the  territory. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  friends  I  had  while  I 
was  in  the  Islands  was  Herr  Altman,  an  orchid 
collector,  who  had  risked  his  life  a  hundred  times 
among  the  savages  of  the  interior  in  the  pursu- 
ance of  the  passion  of  his  life.  "One  afternoon," 
he  said,  "when  we  were  in  the  forests  of  Luzon, 
my  native  guides  approached  me  with  broad  grins. 
I  thought,  perhaps,  they  had  discovered  some  new 
orchid;  so  I  followed  them.  But  I  was  unpre- 
pared for  what  they  were  about  to  show  me. 
Since  then  I  have  had  much  experience  among  the 
wild  tribes,  but  at  this  time  everything  was  new 
to  me.  They  motioned  silence  as,  with  broaden- 
ing grins,  they  now  approached  what  seemed  to 
be  a  clearing  in  the  woods.  I  could  not  think 
why  they  should  be  amused;  but  they  are  very 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  103 

easily  delighted,  just  like  children,  and  I  thought 
that  it  would  do  no  harm  to  humor  them.  Then 
I  was  startled  by  the  howling  of  a  dog  and  a 
strange  sound  coming  through  the  woods. 

Still  following  my  guides,  I  brought  up  in  a 
growth  of  underbrush  on  a  small  precipice  that 
overlooked  an  open  space  among  the  trees.  Look- 
ing in  the  direction  in  which  they  pointed,  I  be- 
held a  group  of  tiny  black  men  dancing  in  a  circle 
around  what  seemed  to  be  a  section  of  a  fallen  tree. 
Off  to  the  side,  the  women,  slightly  smaller  than 
the  men,  were  cooking  a  wild  hog  on  a  spit,  over  a 
smoking  fire.  Their  hair  was  thick  and  woolly  and 
uncombed.  Their  arms  and  ankles  were  adorned 
with  copper  bracelets.  Some  of  the  men  wore 
leather  thongs  that  dangled  from  their  legs. 
There  were  a  few  rude  shelters  in  the  clearing, 
merely  improvised  affairs  of  branches.  As  the 
men  danced  they  sent  up  a  song  in  a  high,  piping 
voice,  and  several  hungry  dogs,  who  had  been 
watching  enviously  the  roasting  meat,  howled 
sympathetically  and  in  unison.  It  finally  occurred 
to  me  that  we  were  the  spectators  of  a  funeral 
ceremony;  that  the  section  of  a  tree  was  nothing 


104  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

less  that  the  rough  coffin  of  the  dead  Negrito. 
We  continued  to  watch  them  for  a  time,  while, 
having  finished  dancing,  they  began  their  feast. 
The  only  dishes  that  they  had  were  cocoanut- 
shells,  out  of  which  they  drank  immoderate 
amounts  of  tuba.  The  funeral  ceremony,  as  I 
understand  it,  lasts  for  several  days — as  long  as 
the  supply  of  meat  and  tuba  lasts.  The  coffin, 
which  appeared  to  me  a  hollowed  log,  is  but  a 
section  of  a  certain  bark  sealed  up  at  either  end 
with  wax.  The  burial  is  made  under  the  house  in 
the  case  of  those  tribes  living  near  the  coast;  or 
in  a  stockade,  which  protects  the  body  against 
desecration  from  the  enemy." 

It  was'  with  feelings  such  as  one  might  enter- 
tain when  looking  at  a  mermaid  or  an  inhabitant 
of  Mars,  that  I  first  saw  a  genuine  Negrito  in 
a  prison  at  Manila.  The  wretched  pigmy  had  been 
brought  in  to  the  city  from  his  inaccessible  retreat 
in  the  great  forest ;  he  was  dazed  and  frightened 
at  the  white  men  and  the  things  they  did.  He 
was  a  miserable  little  fellow,  with  distrustful  eyes, 
and  twisted  legs,  and  pigeon  toes.  He  died  after 
a  few  days  of  captivity,  during  which  time  he  had 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  105 

not  spoken.  A  dumb  obedience  marked  his  rela- 
tions with  the  guard.  The  white  man's  civiliza- 
tion was  as  disagreeable  and  unnatural  to  him  as 
his  nomadic  life  would  be  to  us.  A  fish  could 
just  as  well  live  out  of  water  as  this  pigmy  in  the 
white  man's  land. 

A  few  of  the  Negritos  near  the  coast,  how- 
ever, have  been  touched  by  civilizing  influ- 
ences. They  inhabit  towns  of  small  huts  built 
on  poles,  which  they  abandon  on  the  death  of 
any  one  within.  The  house  wherein  a  death 
occurs  is  generally  burned.  They  plant  a  little 
corn  and  rice,  but  often  move  away  before  the 
crop  is  harvested.  They  are  too  lazy  to  raise 
anything;  too  weak  to  capture  slaves.  During 
the  heavy  rains,  when  the  great  woods  are  satu- 
rated, they  protect  themselves  against  the  cold 
by  wrapping  blankets  around  their  bodies.  At 
night  they  often  share  the  tree  with  birds  and 
monkeys,  sheltered  from  rain  and  dampness  by 
the  canopy  of  foliage.  They  have  a  head  man 
for  their  villages — sometimes  a  member  of  an- 
other tribe,  who,  on  account  of  his  superior  at- 
tainments, holds  the  respect  of  all.  They  hunt 


io6  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

with  bows  and  arrows ;  weapons  which,  by  means 
of  constant  use,  they  handle  with  dexterity.  At 
night  their  villages  are  located  through  the  inces- 
sant barking  of  the  hungry  dogs,  which  always 
follow  them  around.  Sleeping  in  huts,  in  order 
to  prevent  mosquitoes  from  annoying  them,  they 
often  build  a  fire  beneath  them,  toasting  them- 
selves until  their  flesh  becomes  a  crust  of  scales. 
In  the  south  Camarines,  and  in  Negros,  they 
will  often  come  down  to  the  coast  towns,  trading 
the  wax  and  sweet  potatoes  of  the  mountains  for 
sufficient  rice  to  last  them  several  days.  They 
sometimes  work  a  day  or  two  in  the  adjacent  hemp 
or  rice  fields,  receiving  for  their  labor  a  small 
measure  of  the  rice.  When  they  have  eaten  this, 
they  fast  until  their  hunger  drives  them  down  to 
work  again.  Their  marriage  relations  are  peculiar. 
While  the  father  of  the  family  has  but  one  true 
wife,  a  number  of  women  are  dependent  on  him, 
widows  or  relatives  who  have  attached  themselves 
to  him.  The  children  receive  their  names  from 
rivers,  animals,  or  trees.  If  they  were  taken  out 
of  their  environment  when  very  young  they  might 
be  educated,  as  experiments  have  shown  that  the 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  107 

Negrito  children  have  the  same  impulses  of  gener- 
osity, the  same  attachment  to  their  friends,  the 
same  joys,  sorrows,  and  sensations,  that  belong 
to  children  everywhere.  Only  their  little  souls 
are  lost  forever  in  the  wilderness. 

Neither  the  pagan  tribes  nor  the  Negritos  read 
or  write.  The  Moros,  too,  are  very  ignorant,  only 
the  priests  and  students  being  able  to  read  pas- 
sages from  the  Koran  and  make  the  Arabic  char- 
acters. The  latest  Malay  immigrants,  who  had 
been  influenced  by  Indian  culture,  introduced  a 
style  of  writing  that  is  very  queer.  Three  vow- 
els were  used, — a,  e,  and  u.  The  consonants  were 
represented  by  as  many  signs  that  look  a  good 
deal  like  our  shorthand.  Although  there  were 
three  characters  to  represent  the  vowels  when 
used  alone,  whenever  a  consonant  would  be  pro- 
nounced with  "a,"  only  the  sign  of  the  consonant 
was  used.  In  order  to  express  a  final  consonant, 
or  one  without  the  vowel,  a  tiny  cross  was  made 
below  the  character.  If  "e"  was  wanted,  a  dot 
would  be  placed  over  the  letter  that  expressed  the 
consonant,  or  if  the  vowel  was  to  be  "u,"  the  dot 
was  placed  below. 


io8  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Some  rainy  day,  when  you  have  nothing 
else  to  do,  you  can  invent  some  characters 
to  represent  our  consonants,  and  with  the  aid 
of  dots  and  crosses,  write  a  letter  to 'yourself, 
and  see  how  you  would  get  along  if  you  were 
forced  to  use  that  kind  of  alphabet  at  school.  The 
natives  use  the  Spanish  alphabet  to-day,  which  is 
much  like  our  own.  Their  language,  being  full 
of  particles,  sounds  very  funny  when  they  talk. 
All  you  would  understand  would  be  perhaps,  pag, 
naga,  naca,  mag,  tag,  paga;  and  all  this  would 
probably  convey  but  little  meaning  to  you.  It 
is  a  curious  fact  that  while  the  dialects  of  all  the 
tribes  are  different,  many  of  the  ordinary  words 
are  common,  being  slightly  changed  in  the  trans- 
ition. The  language  is  of  a  Malayan  origin,  but 
has  a  number  of  Sanskrit  words  as  well  as  Arabic. 
From  studying  these  dialects,  comparing  the  con- 
struction of  the  sentence  as  expressed  by  differ- 
ent tribes,  and  by  comparing  the  inflections  of  ho- 
mogeneous verbs  and  nouns,  one  might  arrive 
at  the  conclusion  that  these  tribes  and  races,  dif- 
fering so  strikingly  among  each  other,  mutually 
antagonistic,  all  belong  to  one  great  family  and 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  109 

have  a  common  origin.  But  that  is  a  question  for 
the  anthropologists  to  settle;  one  that  will  give 
even  the  professors  all  the  trouble  that  they  want, 
and  make  them  wrinkle  up  their  learned  fore- 
heads, while  among  them  they  arrive  at  widely- 
varying  decisions,  which  will  be  as  mutually  ex- 
clusive as  the  tribes  themselves. 

It  was  a  rainy  day  in  the  dense  woods  along 
the  Iligan-Marahui  road.  The  soft  ground  oozed 
beneath  the  feet,  and  a  continual  dripping  was 
kept  up  from  the  low-hanging,  saturated  foliage. 
The  Moro  interpreter,  in  a  red-striped  suit  and 
prominent  gilt  buttons,  had  come  into  camp  with 
the  report  that  one  of  the  dattos  at  Malumbung 
wanted  the  military  doctor  to  come  up  and  treat 
his  child,  who  was  afflicted  with  a  fever.  The 
datto  had  offered  protection  for  the  "medico," 
and,  as  a  fee,  a  bottle  of  pure  gold.  The  guides 
and  soldiers,  who  were  waiting  in  the  forest, 
would  conduct  the  doctor  to  Malumbung  if  he 
cared  to  go. 

"This  sounds  like  a  pretty  good  adventure," 
said  the  commanding  officer  to  me.  "How  would 


no  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

you  like  to  go  along?"  The  doctor  had  accepted 
the  offer  of  the  Moros,  and  he  now  reiterated 
the  commanding  officer's  invitation.  "It 's  going 
to  be  a  rather  long,  stiff  hike,"  he  said.  "We  '11 
have  to  sleep  to-night  out  in  the  woods,  and 
there  's  no  telling  whether  the  Moros  mean  good 
faith  or  not.  Remember  that,  in  case  the  child 
should  die  while  I  am  there,  the  Moros  will  be- 
lieve that  I  have  killed  it,  and  will  probably  make 
matters  more  or  less  unpleasant  for  us  both.  I 
operated  once  upon  a  fellow  over  in  Tagaloan 
who  died  under  the  knife.  As  soon  as  the  spec- 
tators saw  that  he  was  hardly  due  to  come  to  life 
again,  they  crowded  around  me  with  their  bolos 
drawn,  and  if  a  friend  of  mine  among  them  had 
not  interfered,  I  would  have  followed  my  sub- 
ject very  speedily." 

It  was  arranged  that  we  take  with  us  a  small 
squad  of  regulars  to  carry  the  provisions  and  go 
armed,  "in  case  there  should  be  any  game  upon 
the  way."  As  this  arrangement  seemed  to  satisfy 
the  Moros,  though  it  did  not  please  them  much, 
we  started,  covering  the  first  half  mile  along  the 
clayey  road  through  driving  rain,  and  turning 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  m 

off  into  the  Moro  trail  around  the  summit  of  the 
hill.  The  Moros  led  the  way  with  their  peculiar 
lurching  stride  that  covered  a  surprising  distance  " 
in  a  very  short  time.  Soon  we  were  in  the  heart 
of  the  vast  wilderness.  We  passed  by  colonies 
of  monkeys,  who  severely  reprimanded  us  from 
their  secure  retreat  among  the  tree-tops.  One  of 
the  soldiers  killed  a  python  with  his  Krag — a 
swollen  creature,  that  could  hardly  be  distin- 
guished from  the  overhanging  vines — that  meas- 
ured twenty  feet  from  head  to  tail.  The  Moros 
silently  unslipped  their  knives,  and  dextrously 
removed  the  skin.  We  camped  that  night  in 
shelter  tents,  although  the  ground  was  soaked, 
and  a  cold  breath  penetrated  the  damp  woods. 
All  night  the  jungle-fowl  and  monkeys  kept  up 
an  incessant  obligate,  and  the  forest  seemed  to 
re-echo  with  mysterious  and  far-off  sounds.  At 
daylight  we  pushed  on,  and  late  in  the  afternoon 
arrived  at  the  small  Moro  settlement.  The  tiny 
ni'pa  houses,  set  up  on  bamboo  poles,  were  rather 
a  poor  substitute  for  shelter;  but  on  reaching 
them  after  our  two  days  in  the  forest,  it  was  like 
arriving  in  a  civilized  community.  The  doctor 


ii2  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

went  immediately  to  the  datto's  house,  a  large  one 
with  a  steep  roof,  where  he  dosed  the  infant  with 
a  little  quinine. 

There  were  about  five  hundred  Moros  in  the 
village  under  the  datto,  who  ruled  absolutely  as 
by  hereditary  right.  While  he,  of  course,  was 
feudal  to  the  nearest  sultan,  in  his  own  com- 
munity he  .was  a  lord  and  prince.  Most  of  the 
people  were  his  slaves  and  fighting  men.  His 
private  warriors,  or  his  bodyguard,  were  armed 
with  krisses,  campalans,  and  spears,  with  shields 
of  carabao  hide,  and  coats  of  mail  of  buffalo- 
horn,  as  defensive  armor.  The  favorite  weapons 
of  the  datto  were  elaborately  inlaid  with  the 
ivory  cut  from  the  tusks  of  the  wild  boar.  His 
dress  was  also  distinctive,  and  when  new  must 
have  been  very  brilliant.  It  was  fastened  with 
pearl  buttons,  while  along  the  outside  seams  of 
his  tight  pantaloons  a  row  of  smaller  buttons  ran. 
A  dirty  silk  handkerchief  wound  around  his  head, 
the  corner  overlapping  on  the  side,  made  an  ap- 
propriate and  fitting  headgear.  He  had  several 
wives,  for  whom  he  had  paid  in  all  a  sum  amount- 
ing to  a  hundred  sacks  of  rice  and  twenty  cat- 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  113 

tie.  He  had  lost  considerably  on  his  specula- 
tions, having  divorced  three  wives  and  being  un- 
able to  secure  a  rebate  on  the  price  that  he  had 
paid  for  them. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  completed  his  at- 
tentions to  the  patient,  the  pandita  (priest)  ap- 
peared, and  asked  him  to  account  for  the  strange 
happenings  that  had  occurred  in  the  community. 
The  village  was  in  a  state  of  panic,  and  unless  a 
stop  were  put  to  the  proceedings  soon,  there  was 
no  telling  what  the  end  might  be.  It  seemed  that 
during  the  night  a  number  of  children  had  been 
murdered  secretly.  Their  mutilated  bodies  had 
been  left  at  morning  at  the  gates  of  their  respec- 
tive dwellings.  These  murders  had  'been  going 
on  for  several  days,  and  though  the  houses  had 
been  guarded  by  a  man  armed  with  a  campilan 
at  night,  the  children  would  be  mysteriously  miss- 
ing in  the  morning.  It  was  evidently,  said  the 
priest,  the  work  of  devils.  A  big  hand  had  been 
seen  to  snatch  one  of  the  children  from  its  parent's 
arms ;  and  under  the  houses  of  those  afflicted  could 
be  seen  a  weird  fire  glowing  in  the  dead  of  night. 

The  people  claimed  the  murderer  was  none  else 


ii4  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

than  the  big  man  of  the  woods,  whose  footprints, 
like  the  impressions  of  a  cocoanut-shell,  had  been 
discovered  in  the  soft  ground  near  the  border 
of  the  forest.  There  was  a  crazy  prophet  living 
in  a  tree,  and  he  had  seen  the  wife  of  the  big 
man,  half  black,  half  white,  wandering  near  the 
territory  of  the  lake.  The  prophet  had  also  seen 
a  star  fall  from  the  sky,  and  he  had  followed  it 
to  see  where  it  had  struck  the  earth.  He  found 
there  a  huge  stone,  which,  as  he  looked  upon  it, 
changed  to  a  wild  hog.  Then  the  wild  hog  had 
vanished,  and  a  flock  of  birds  had  risen  from  the 
ground.  In  place  of  the  rock,  a  stone  hand  now 
appeared,  and  breaking  off  a  finger  of  it,  the 
prophet  had  discovered  that,  when  burnt,  its  fumes 
had  power  to  put  the  whole  community  to  sleep. 
In  this  way  had  the  big  man  of  the  woods  been 
able  to  defy  the  guards  and  to  assassinate  the  chil- 
dren at  his  will. 

The  doctor,  thinking  that  these  deeds  had  been 
performed  by  somebody  impelled  by  lust — the  lust 
of  seeing  blood  and  quivering  flesh — determined 
to  investigate.  Suspicion  pointed  to  the  crazy 
prophet,  and  the  guards  directed  us  to  his  impos- 


A  LOST  TRIBE. 

sible  abode.  The  prophet  was  accused  directly  of 
the  crime,  and,  being  convinced  that  he  was 
found  out  by  the  white  man's  magic,  he  con- 
fessed. The  datto  sentenced  him  to  be  beheaded, 
and  seemed  disappointed  when  we  would  not  stay 
to  see  this  operation.  He  even  offered  to  turn 
the  victim  loose  among  the  crowd,  and  let  them 
strike  him  down  with  krisses.  Had  we  desired, 
we  could. have  had  the  places  of  honor  in  the  line, 
and  used  the  datto's  finest  weapons.  The  people, 
he  said,  were  puzzled  at  our  lack  of  interest,  for 
the  occasion  would  have  been  a  sort  of  festival 
for  them.  But  seeing  that  we  were  obdurate,  the 
datto  served  our  farewell  meal — baked  jungle- 
fowl  and  rice — and,  after  offering  to  purchase  our 
Krag-Jorgesens  at  an  attractive  price,  he  bade  us 
all  good-bye. 

On  the  way  back,  our  guides  surprised  us  by 
their  climbing  and  swimming.  There  was  one 
place  where  the  Agus  River  had  been  spanned 
by  jointed  bamboo  poles;  while  we  crossed  like 
funambulists,  depending  for  our  balance  on  a 
slender  rail,  the  Moros  leaped  into  the  rushing 
torrent,  near  the  rapids,  swimming  like  rats 


n6  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

against  the  stream,  and  reaching  the  other  side 
ahead  of  us.  One  of  the  guides  went  up  a  tall 
macao-tree,  pulling  himself  up  by  the  long  para- 
sitic vines,  and  bracing  himself  against  the  tree- 
trunk  with  his  feet,  to  get  an  orchid  that  was 
growing  high  among  the  foliage.  Though  we  ex- 
pressed our  admiration  at  these  feats,  the  guides 
preserved  their  customary  proud  demeanor,  and 
refused  to  be  moved  by  applause. 

Their  active  life  in  the  vast  wilderness  has 
given  them  athletic,  supple  bodies,  which  they 
handle  to  a  nicety  when  fighting.  Although  the 
Moros  build  stone  forts  and  mount  them  with 
old-fashioned  cannon ;  although  their  arsenals  are 
fairly  well  supplied  with  Remingtons  and  Mau- 
sers, their  warriors  generally  prefer  to  fight  with 
bolos.  These  weapons  never  leave  their  side. 
They  sleep  with  them,  and  they  are  buried  with 
them.  Their  heavy  campalans  are  fastened  to 
their  hands  by  thongs,  so  that,  in  case  the  hand 
should  slip,  the  warrior  would  not  fall  without 
his  knife.  The  Moros  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  are 
extremely  agile.  Holding  the  shield  on  the  left 
arm,  they  flourish  the  bolo  with  their  right,  dodg- 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  117 

4 

ing,  leaping,  and  jeering  at  the  antagonist  in 
order  to  disconcert  or  frighten  him. 

While  their  religion  and  fanaticism  render 
them  almost  foolhardy  in  a  battle,  if  a  Moro  sees 
that  he  is  beaten  and  that  escape  is  possible,  he 
will  avail  himself  of  opportunities  to  fight  an- 
other day.  If  brought  to  bay,  however,  he  is 
desperate,  and  in  his  more  religious  moments  he 
will  throw  himself  on  a  superior  enemy,  expecting 
a  sure  death,  but  confident  of  riding  the  white 
horse  to  paradise  if  he  succeeds  in  spilling  the 
blood  of  infidels. 

Although  distrustful,  lazy,  and  malignant, 
the  Moro  is  consistent  in  his  hatred  for  the  un- 
believer, and  untiring  on  the  war-path.  Scorning 
all  manner  of  work,  he  leads  an  active  forest  life, 
killing  the  wild  pig,  which  religious  scruples  pre- 
vent his  eating,  and  waging  war  against  the 
neighboring  tribes.  He  is  a  born  slave-catcher 
and  a  pirate.  He  will  drink  sea-water  when  no 
other  is  available.  He  shows  a  diabolical  cunning 
in  the  manufacture  of  his  weapons.  Nothing 
can  be  more  terrible  than  the  long,  snaky  blade 
of  a  Malay  kriss.  The  harpoons,  with  which  he 


n8  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

spears  the  hogs,  come  apart  at  a  slight  pull.  The 
point  of  the  spear  on  catching  in  the  flesh  holds 
fast.  The  handle,  however,  becoming  detached, 
though  held  to  the  barbed  point  by  a  thong, 
catches  and  holds  the  hog  fast  in  the  underbrush. 
The  head-ax  is  a  long  blade  turned  at  just  the 
proper  angle  to  decapitate  the  victim  scientifically. 
Ignorant  and  perfectly  indifferent  to  the  ob- 
servations that  their  creed  prescribes,  the  Moros 
gather  at  the  rude  mosque  to  the  beating  of  a 
monstrous  drum.  Seated  around  upon  straw 
mats,  they  chatter  and  chew  betel-nut  while  the 
pandita  reads  a  passage  from  a  manuscript  copy 
of  the  Koran.  These  copies  are  guarded  sacredly, 
and  only  the  young  men  who  ire  studying  for 
the  priesthood  are  instructed  from  them.  The 
priests  of  the  first  class  are  able  to  read  and  write, 
and  it  is  better  to  have  made  the  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca.  The  birth  of  Mohammed  is  celebrated 
by  a  feast  at  harvest-time.  Another  occasion  for 
a  feast  is  given  by  the  marriage  ceremony.  Bride- 
grooms are  encouraged  to  provide  these  banquets 
by  the  administration  of  a  beating  if  delinquent, 
or  in  case  the  food  provided  fails  to  meet  the  ex- 


A  LOST  TRIBE.  119 

pectations  of  the  guests.  On  the  completion  of 
this  function,  the  bridegroom  bathes  his  feet ;  then 
chewing  buya,  seated  on  a  mat  beside  the  bride, 
his  hand  and  hers  are  covered  by  a  napkin  while 
the  priest  goes  through  the  proper  gestures  and 
recites  a  verse  from  the  Koran.  The  wedding 
celebration  then  degenerates  into  a  drunken  dance. 

The  bodies  of  the  dead  are  wrapped  in  a  white 
shroud,  and  buried  in  a  crescent  trench,  together 
with  enough  meat,  fruit,  and  water  to  sustain  the 
spirit  on  its  trip  to  paradise.  The  priest,  before 
departing,  eats  a  meal  of  buffalo-meat  or  other 
game  above  the  grave.  The  grave  is  then  turned 
over  to  a  guard  of  soldiers,  who  remain  there  for 
a  few  days,  or  as  long  as  they  are  paid. 

Though  the  Americans  have  tried  to  deal  in 
good  faith  with  these  fanatics,  little  has  been  ac- 
complished either  in  the  way  of  civilizing  them 
or  pacifying  them.  The  Moro  schools  at  Jolo 
and  at  Zamboanga  have  been  failures.  Teachers 
of  manual  training  have  been  introduced  to  no 
avail.  The  Moro  could  be  no  more  treacherous 
if  his  ancestors  had  sprung  from  tigers'  wombs. 
A  Moro  boy,  employed  for  years  by  one  of  my 


120  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

American  acquaintances  at  Iligan,  rewarded  his 
master  recently  by  cutting  his  throat  at  night. 
As  superstitious  as  he  is  fanatic  and  uncivilized, 
the  Moro  is  a  failure  as  a  member  of  the  human 
race.  Even  the  children  are  the  incarnation  of  the 
fiend.  There  was  that  boy  at  Iligan  who  worked 
at  the  officer's  club,  and  who  hung  over  the 
roulette-wheel  like  a  perfect  devil,  crowing  with 
demoniac  glee  when  he  was  lucky.  These  are  our 
latest  citizens — this  batch  of  serpents'  eggs 
hatched  out  in  human  form ;  and  those  who  have 
seen  the  Moro  in  his  native  home  will  tell  you 
that,  whatever  his  latent  possibilities  may  be,  he 
can  not  yet  be  dealt  with  as  a  man. 


OUR  LATEST  CITIZENS 


CAPTER  VIII. 
IN  A  VISCAYAN 


THE  fountain  on  the  corner,  where  the  brown, 
barefooted  girls  with  bamboo  water-tubes  would 
gather  at  the  noon  hour  and  at  supper-time,  was 
shaded  in  the  heat  of  the  day  by  a  mimosa-tree. 
The  Calle  de  la  Pas  y  Buen  Viaje  (Street 
of  Peace  and  a  Good  Journey),  flanked  by  sen- 
tinel-like bonga-trees  and  hedged  in  by  a  bamboo 
fence,  stretches  away  through  the  banana-groves 
toward  the  fantastic  mountains.  A  puffing  car- 
abao  comes  down  the  long  street,  dragging  the 
heavy  stalks  of  newly-cut  bamboo.  The  pig  that 
has  been  rooting  in  the  grass,  looks  up,  and,  see- 
ing what  is  coming,  bolts  with  staccato  grunts 
unceremoniously  through  the  bamboo  fence. 

In  the  little  drygoods-store  across  the  street, 
Felicidad,  the  dusky-eyed  proprietress,  has  gone 
to  sleep  while  waiting  for  a  customer.  She  has 
discarded  her  chinelas  and  her  pina  yoke.  Her 
brown  arms  resting  on  the  table  pillow  her  un- 

121 


122  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

conscious  head.  Her  listless  fingers  clasp  a  half- 
smoked  cigarette. 

The  stock  of  La  Aurora  is  a  comprehensive 
one,  including  printed  cotton  goods  from  China, 
red  and  green  belts  with  nickel  fastenings,  un- 
comfortable-looking Spanish  shoes,  a  bottle  of 
quinine  sulphate  tablets,  an  assortment  of  per- 
fumery and  jewelry,  rosaries  and  crucifixes,  tow- 
els and  handkerchiefs,  and  dainty  pina  fabrics. 
The  arrival  of  the  Americano  is  the  signal  for  the 
neighbors  and  the  neighbors'  children,  having 
nothing  in  particular  to  do,  to  flock  around.  The 
Filipino  curiosity  again ! 

On  the  next  corner,  where  the  wooden  Atlas 
braces  up  the  balcony,  the  Chino  store  is  sheltered 
from  the  sun  by  curtains  of  alternate  blue  and 
white.  Here  Chino  Santiago,  in  his  cool  pa- 
jamas, audits  the  accounts  with  the  assistance  of 
the  wooden  counting  frame,  while  Chino  Jose,  his 
partner,  with  his  paintbrush  stuck  behind  his  ear, 
is  following  the  ledger  with  his  long,  curved  fin- 
ger-nail. Both  Chinos,  being  Catholics,  have  ta- 
ken native  wives,  material  considerations  having 
influenced  the  choice;  but  Maestro  Pepin  says 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  123 

that,  nevertheless,  they  are  unpopular  because  they 
work  too  hard  and  cause  the  fluctuations  in  the 
prices.  By  pursuing  a  consistent  system  of  ab- 
stractions from  the  rice-bags,  by  an  innocent  adul- 
teration of  the  tinto  wine,  these  two  comerciantes 
have  acquired  considerable  wealth. 

The  bland  proprietor  will  greet  you  with  a 
smile,  and  offer  you  the  customary  cigarette.  And 
if  the  prices  quoted  are  unsatisfactory,  they  are 
at  least  elastic  and  are  easily  adjusted  for  a  per- 
sonal friend.  Along  the  shelf  the  opium-scented 
line  of  drygoods  is  available,  while  portraits  of 
the  saints  and  Neustra  Senorita  del  Rosario, 
whose  conical  skirt  conceals  the  little  children  of 
the  Church,  hang  from  the  wall.  Suspended  from 
the  ceiling  are  innumerable  hanging  lamps  with 
green  tin  shades.  A  line  of  fancy  handkerchiefs, 
with  Dewey's  portrait  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
embroidered  in  the  corners,  is  displayed  on  wires 
stretched  overhead  across  the  store.  Bolo  blades, 
chocolate-boilers,  rice-pots,  water- jars,  and  crazy 
looking-glasses  are  disposed  around,  while  in  the 
glass  case  almost  anything  from  a  bone  collar- 
button  to  a  musical  clock  is  likely  to  be  found. 


124  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Santiago  would  be  glad  to  have  you  open  an 
account  here  and,  unlike  the  Filipino,  he  will 
never  trouble  you  about  your  bill. 

The  market  street  is  lined  with  nipa  booths, 
where  senoritas  play  at  keeping  shop,  presiding 
over  the  army  of  unattractive  articles  exposed  for 
sale.  Upon  a  rack  the  cans  of  salmon  are  drawn 
up  in  a  battalion,  a  detachment  of  ex-whisky  bot- 
tles filled  with  kerosene  or  tanduay,  bringing  up 
the  rear.  Certain  stock  articles  may  be  invariably 
found  at  these  tiendas, — boxes  of  matches,  balls 
of  cotton  thread,  bananas,  bitya,  eggs  and  ciga- 
rettes, and  the  inevitable  brimming  glass  of  tuba, 
stained  a  dark-red  color  from  the  frequent  ap- 
plications of  the  betel-chewing  mouth. 

Although  the  stream  of  commerce  flows  in  a 
small  way  where  the  almighty  'suca  duco  is  the 
medium  of  exchange,  gossip  is  circulated  freely; 
for  without  the  telegraph  or  telephone,  news 
travels  fast  in  Filipinia.  The  withered  hag,  her 
scanty  raiment  scarcely  covering  her  bony  limbs, 
squatting  upon  the  counter  in  the  midst  of  guini- 
mos,  bananas,  and  dried  fish,  and  spitting  a  red 
pool  of  betel-juice,  will  chatter  the  day  long  with 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  125 

the  senora  in  the  booth  across  the  street.  The 
purchaser  should  not  feel  delicate  at  seeing  her 
bare  feet  in  contact  with  the  spiced  bread  that  he 
means  to  buy,  nor  at  the  swarms  of  flies  around 
the  reeking  mound  of  guinimos  scraped  up  in 
dirty  wooden  bowls,  and  left  in  the  direct,  rays 
of  the  sun. 

Dogs,  pigs,  chickens,  and  children  tumble  in 
the  dust.  .  Dejected  Filipino  ponies,  tethered  to 
the  shacks,  are  waiting  for  their  masters  to  ex- 
haust the  tuba  market.  Down  the  lane  a  panting 
carabao,  with  a  whole  family  clinging  to  its  back, 
is  slowly  coming  into  town.  Another,  covered 
with  the  dust  of  travel,  laden  with  bananas,  hemp, 
and  copra  from  a  distant  barrio,  is  being  driven 
by  a  fellow  in  a  nipa  hat,  straddling  the  heavy 
load.  A  mountain  girl,  bareheaded,  carrying  a 
parasol,  comes  loping  in  to  the  mercado  on  a 
skinny  pony  saddled  with  a  red,  upholstered  silla, 
with  a  rattan  back  and  foot-rest,  cinched  with 
twisted  hemp. 

At  night  the  market-place  is  lighted  up  by 
tiny  rush  lights,  burning  cocoatnut-oil  or  petrolia. 
Here,  on  a  pleasant  evening,  to  the  lazy  strum- 


i26  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ming  of  guitars,  the  village  population  prome- 
nades, young  men  in  white  holding  each  other's 
hands,  and  blowing  out  a  cloud  of  cigarette 
smoke ;  senoritas,  in  their  cheap  red  dresses,  shuf- 
fling hopelessly  along  the  road.  One  of  the  local 
characters  is  entertaining  a  street-corner  audi- 
ence with  a  droll  song,  while  the  town-crier,  with 
his  escort  of  municipal  police,  announces  by  the 
beating  of  a  drum  that  a  bandilla  from  the  presi- 
dente  is  about  to  be  pronounced. 

Here  you  will  find  the  Filipino  in  his  natural 
and  most  playful  mood,  as  easily  delighted  as  a 
child.  A  crowd  was  always  gathered  round  the 
tuba  depot  at  the  head  of  the  mere  ado,  where  the 
agile  climbers  brought  the  beverage  in  wooden 
buckets  from  the  tops  of  co/>ra-trees.  A  comical 
old  fellow,  Pedro  Pocpotoc  (a  name  derived  from 
chicken  language),  used  to  live  here,  and  on 
moonlight  nights,  planting  his  fat  feet  on  the 
window-sill,  like  a  droll  caricature  of  Nero,  he 
would  sing  Viscayan  songs  to  the  accompaniment 
of  a  cheap  violin.  A  talkative  old  baker  lived  a 
short  way  down  the  street  with  his  three  daugh- 
ters. They  were  always  busy  pouding  rice  in 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  127 

wooden  mortars  with  long  poles,  thus  making 
rice-flour,  which  they  baked  in  clean  banana- 
leaves  and  sweetened  with  brown  sugar  molded  in 
the  shells  of  cocoanuts. 

Sometimes  a  Moro  boat  would  drop  into  the 
bay,  and  the  strange-looking  savages  in  their 
tight-fitting,  gaudy  clothes  would  file  through 
town  with  spices,  bark,  and  cloth  for  sale.  From 
Bohol  came  the  curious  thatched  bancas,  with 
their  grass  sails  and  bamboo  outriggers,  with  car- 
goes of  pottery,  woven  hats,  bohoka,  and  rattan. 
On  the  fiesta  days,  Subanos  from  the  mountains 
brought  in  strips  of  dried  tobacco,  ready  to  be 
rolled  up  into  long  cigars,  camotes,  coffee-berries, 
chocolate,  and  eggs,  and  squatted  at  the  entrance 
to  the  cockpit  in  an  improvised  mercado  with  the 
people  from  the  shore,  who  offered  clams  and 
guinimos  for  sale. 

And  once  a  month  the  town  would  be  awak- 
ened by  the  siren  whistle  of  the  little  hemp-boat 
from  Cebu.  This  whistle  was  the  signal  for-  the 
small  boys  to  extract  the  reluctant  carabao  from 
the  cool,  sticky  wallow,  and  yoke  him  to  the  creak- 
ing bamboo  cart.  Then  from  the  storehouses  the 


128  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

fragrant  picos  of  hemp  would  be  piled  on,  and  the 
longsuffering  beast  of  burden,  aided  and  abetted 
by  a  rope  run  through  his  nose,  would  haul  the 
load  down  to  the  beach.  While  naked  laborers 
were  toiling  with  the  cargo,  carrying  it  upon  their 
shoulders  through  the  surf,  the  Spanish  captain 
and  the  mate,  with  rakishly-tilted  Tarn  o'Shanter 
caps,  would  light  their  cigarettes,  stroll  over  to 
Ramon's  warehouse  where  the  hemp  was  being 
weighed,  and,  seated  on  sour-smelling  sacks  of 
copra,  chat  with  old  Ramon,  partaking  later  of  a 
dinner  of  balenciona,  chicken  and  red-peppers, 
cheese  and  guava. 

Much  of  the  village  life  centers  around  the 
river.  Here  in  the  early  morning  come  the  girls 
and  women  wrapped  in  robes  of  red  and  yellow 
stripes,  and  with  their  hair  unbound.  In  family 
parties  the  whole  village  takes  a  morning  bath, 
the  young  men  poising  their  athletic  bodies  on 
an  overhanging  bank  and  plunging  down  into  the 
cool  depths  below,  the  children  splashing  in  the 
shallow  water,  and  the  women  breast-deep  in  the 
stream,  washing  their  long  hair. 

Here  also,  during  the  morning  hours,  the  wo- 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  129 

men  take  their  washing.  Tying  the  chemise  be- 
low the  arms,  they  squat  down  near  the  shore  and 
beat  the  wet  mass  with  a  wooden  paddle  on  a 
rock.  Meanwhile  the  children  build  extensive 
palaces  of  pebbles  on  the  bank;  the  carabaos,  up 
to  their  noses  in  the  river,  dream  in  the  refresh- 
ing shade  of  overhanging  trees.  The  air  is  vocal 
with  the  liquid  notes  of  birds,  and  fragrant  with 
the  heavy  scent  of  flowers.  A  leaf-green  lizard 
creeps  down  on  a  horizontal  trunk.  The  broad 
leaves  of  abaca  rustle  in  the  breeze;  the  graceful 
stalks  of  bamboo  crackle  like  tin  tubes.  Around 
the  bend  the  water  ripples  at  the  ford.  At  even- 
ing you  will  see  the  tired  men  from  the  moun- 
tains, bending  under  heavy  loads  of  hemp,  wade 
through  the  shallows  to  the  cavern  shelter  of  the 
banyan-tree.  Through  the  dense  mango-grove 
comes  the  faint  sound  of  bells.  The  puk-puk  bird 
hoots  from  the  jungle,  and  the  black  crows  settle 
in  the  lofty  trees. 

The  covered  bridge  that  spans  the  river  near 
the  mouth  is  a  great  thoroughfare.  Neither  the 
arch  nor  pier  is  used  in  its  construction;  it  is 
anchored  to  the  shore  by  cables.  It  is  not  a  very 


130  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

rigid  bridge,  and  sways  considerably  when  one  is 
crossing  it.     Even  the  surefooted  ponies  step  a 

'  little  gingerly  over  the  loose  beams  that  form  the 
floor.  A  curious  procession  is  continually  pass- 
ing,— families  moving  their  worldly  goods  on 

•  carabaos,  the  dogs  and  children  following;  hom- 
bres  on  ponies,  grasping  the  stirrups  with  their 
toes;  a  padre  with  his  gown  caught  up  above  his 
knees,  riding  away  to  some  confession ;  mountain 
people  traveling  in  single  file,  and  girls  with  trays 
of  merchandise  upon  their  heads. 

Down  where  the  nipa  jungle  thickens,  fish- 
ing bancas  are  drawn  up  on  the  shore;  and  near 
by  in  a  cocoatnut-grove  the  old  boatmaker  lives. 
The  hull  of  the  outlandish  boat  that  he  is  carv- 
ing is  a  solid  log.  When  finished,  with  its  black 
paint,  nipa  gunwale,  bamboo  outriggers,  and  rat- 
lines made  of  parasitic  vines,  it  will  put  out  from 
port  with  a  big  gamecock  as  a  mascot,  rowed 
with  clumsy  paddles  to  the  rhythm  of  a  drum,  its 
helpless  grass  sails  flopping  while  the  sailors 
whistle  for  the  wind.  These  boats,  although  they 
can  not  tack,  have  one  advantage — they  can  never 
sink.  They  carry  bamboo  poles  for  poling  over 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  131 

coral  bottoms.  In  a  fair  breeze  they  attain  con- 
siderable speed;  but  there  is  danger  in  a  heavy 
sea  of  swamping.  When  drawn  up  on  shore  they 
look  like  big  mosquitoes,  as  the  body  in  propor- 
tion to  the  rigging  seems  quite  insignificant. 

The  little  fishing  village  is  composed  of  leaning 
shacks  blown  out  of  plumb  by  heavy  winds.  Along 
the  beach  on  bamboo  racks  the  nets  are  hanging 
out  to  dry.  At  night  the  little  fleet  puts  out  for 
Punta  Gorda,  where  a  ruined  watch-tower — a  pro- 
tection against  Moro  pirates — stands  half  hidden 
among  creeping  vines.  The  nets  are  floated  upon 
husks  of  cocoanut,  and  set  in  the  wild  light 
of  burning  rushes.  While  the  men  are  working 
in  the  tossing  sea,  or  venturing  almost  beyond 
sight  of  land,  the  women,  lighting  torches,  wade 
out  to  the  coral  reef  and.  seine  for  smaller  fish 
among  the  rocks.  Early  the  following  morning, 
while  the  sea  is  gray,  the  fishermen  will  toss  their 
catch  upon  the  sand.  The  devil-fish  are  the, 
most  popular  at  the  impromptu  market,  where 
the  prices  vary  according  to  the  run  of  luck. 

The  town  was  laid  out  by  the  Spaniards  in 
the  days  when  Padre  Pedro  was  the  autocrat  and 
10 


132  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

representative  of  Spanish  law.  The  ruins  of  the 
former  mission  and  the  public  gardens  are  now 
overgrown  with  grass.  Sea-breezes  sweep  the 
rambling  convent  With  its  double  walls,  tiled 
courtyard,  and  its  Spanish  well.  The  new  church, 
never  to  be  finished,  but  with  pompous  front, 
illustrates  the  relaxing  power  of  Rome.  Goats, 
carabaos,  and  ponies  graze  on  the  neglected  plaza 
shaded  with  widespreading  camphor-trees.  The 
two  school  buildings  bearing  the  forgotten  Span- 
ish arms  are  on  the  road  to  ruin  and  decay;  no 
signs  of  life  in  the  disreputable  municipio;  the 
presidente  probably  is  deep  in  his  siesta,  and  the 
solitary  guard  of  the  carcel  is  busily  engaged 
in  conversation  with  the  single  prisoner. 

The  only  remains  of  Spanish  grandeur  in  the 
village  are  the  two  ramshackle  coaches  that  are 
used  for  hearses  at  state  funerals.  Most  of  the 
larger  houses  are,  however,  in  repair,  although 
the  canvas  ceilings  and  the  board  partitions  seem 
to  be  in  need  of  paint.  These  houses  occupy  the 
center  of  the  town.  They  are  of  frame  construc- 
tion, painted  blue  and  white.  The  floors  are 
made  of  rosewood  and  mahogany;  the  windows 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  133 

fitted  with  translucent  shell.  Storehouses  occupy 
the  first  floor,  while  the  living  rooms  are  reached 
by  a  broad  flight  of  stairs.  A  bridge  connects 
the  dining-room  with  the  kitchen,  where  the 
greasy  cook,  often  a  Moro  slave,  works  at  a 
smoky  fire  of  cocoanut-husks  on  an  earth  bottom, 
situated  in  an  annex  to  the  rear. 

A  walk  through  the  main  street  leads  past  a 
row  of  native  houses,  built  on  poles  and  shaded 
by  banana-trees.  You  are  continually  stepping 
over  mats  spread  out  and  covered  with  pounded 
corn,  while  pigs  and  chickens  are  shooed  off  by 
the  excitation  of  a  piece  of  nipa,  fastened  to  a 
string  and  operated  from  an  upper  window  of 
the  house.  A  small  tienda  opens  from  each  house, 
with  frequently  no  more  than  a  few  betel-nuts 
on  sale.  The  front  is  decorated  with  the  faded 
strips  of  cloth  or  paper  lamps  left  over  from  the 
last  fiesta,  while  the  skeleton  of  a  lamented  mon- 
key fixed  above  the  door  acts  as  a  charm  to  keep 
away  bad  luck.  A  parrakeet  swings  in  the  win- 
dow on  a  bamboo  perch,  and  in  another  window 
hangs  an  orchid  growing  from  the  dried  husk 
of  a  cocoanut.  Under  the  house  the  loom  is  situ- 


134  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ated,  where  the  women  weave  fine  cloth  from  piiia 
and  banana  fibers — and  the  wooden  mortar  used 
for  pounding  rice.  After  the  harvest  season  it 
is  one  of  the  Viscayan  customs  to  inaugurate  rice- 
pounding  bees.  Relays  of  young  men,  stripped 
for  work,  surround  the  mortar,  and,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  guitars,  deliver  blows  in  quick  suc- 
cession and  with  gradually  increasing  speed,  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  of  the  music. 

In  the  cool  shade  of  the  ylang-ylang  tree  a 
native  barber  is  intent  upon  his  customer.  The 
customer  sits  on  his  haunches  while  the  operation 
is  performed.  When  it  is  finished,  all  the  hair 
above  the  ears  and  neck  will  be  shaved  close,  while 
that  in  front  will  be  as  long  as  ever.  The  beard 
will  not  need  shaving,  as  the  Filipino  chin  at  best 
is  hardly  more  aculeated  than  a  strawberry.  The 
hair,  however,  even  of  the  smallest  boys  grows 
for  some  distance  down  the  cheeks.  The  Filipino, 
when  he  does  shave,  takes  it  very  seriously,  and 
attacks  the  bristles  individually  rather  than  col- 
lectively. 

You  will  not  remain  long  in  a  Filipino  town 
without  the  chance  of  witnessing  a  native  funeral. 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  135 

A  service  of  the  first  class  costs  about  three  hun- 
dred pesos;  but  for  twenty  pesos  Padre  Pedro  will 
conduct  a  funeral  of  less  magnificence.  The  padre, 
going  to  the  house  of  mourning  where  the  band, 
the  singers,  and  the  candle-bearers  are  assembled, 
engineers  the  pageant  to  the  church.  The  dim 
interior  will  be  illuminated  by  flickering  candles 
burned  in  memory  of  the  departed  soul.  Before 
the  altar  solemn  mass  is  held,  intensified  by  the 
deep  tolling  of  a  bell.  Led  by  three  acolytes  in 
red  and  white,  with  silver  crosses,  the  procession 
moves  on  to  the  cemetery  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town.  The  padre  sheltered  by  a  white  umbrella, 
reads  the  Latin  prayers  aloud.  A  small  boy 
swings  the  smoking  censer,  and  the  singers  under- 
take a  melancholy  dirge.  The  withered  body, 
with  the  hands  crossed  on  the  breast,  clothed  all 
in  black,  is  borne  aloft  upon  a  bamboo  litter, 
mounted  with  a  black  box  painted  with  the  skull 
and  bones,  and  decked  with  candles.  Women  in 
black  veils  with  candles  follow,  mumbling  prayers, 
the  words  of  which  they  do  not  understand. 

The  cemetery  is  surrounded  by  a  coral  wall, 
commanded  by  a  gate  that  bears  a  Latin  epigram. 


136  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

The  graves,  as  indicated  by  the  mounds  of  dirt, 
are  never  very  deep,  and  while  a  few  are  guarded 
by  a  wooden  cross,  forlornly  decorated  by  a 
withered  bunch  of  flowers,  most  of  the  graves  re- 
ceive no  care  at  all.  There  may  be  one  or  two 
vaults  overgrown  with  grass  and  in  a  bad  state 
of  repair.  Around  the  big  cross  in  the  center 
is  a  ghastly  heap  of  human  bones  and  grinning 
skulls — grinning  because  somebody  else  now  oc- 
cupies their  former  grisly  beds,  the  rent  on  which 
has  long  ago  expired. 

To  the  Viscayan  mind,  death  is  a  matter  of 
bad  luck.  It  is  advisable  to  hinder  it  with  anting- 
antings  and  medallions;  but  when  it  comes,  the 
Filipino  fatalist  will  take  it  philosophically.  To 
the  boys  and  girls  a  family  death  is  the  sensation 
of  the  year.  It  means  to  them  nine  days  of  cele- 
bration, when  old  women  gather  at  the  house,  and, 
beating  on  the  floor  with  hai  ds  and  feet,  put  up  a 
hopeless  wail,  while  dogs  without  howl  dismally 
and  sympathetically.  And  at  the  end  of  the  nine 
days,  the  soul  then  being  out  of  purgatory,  they 
will  have  a  feast.  A  pig  and  a  goat  will  be  killed, 
not  to  speak  of  chickens — and  the  meat  will  be 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  137 

served  up  with  calabash  and  rice ;  and  visitors  will 
come  and  look  on  while  the  people  eat  at  the  first 
table;  and  the  second  table  and  the  third  are  fin- 
ished, and  the  viands  still  hold  out.  But  these  are 
placed  upon  the  table  down  below,  where  hoi  polloi 
and  the  lame,  blind,  and  halt  sit  down  and  eat. 
And  back  of  all  this  superficiality  lies  the  great 
superstitious  dread  by  means  of  which  the  Church 
of  Rome  holds  such  authority. 

I  got  to  know  the  little  village  very  well — 
to  join  the  people  in  their  foolish  celebrations 
and  their  wedding  feasts.  I  was  among  them 
when  the  town  was  swept  by  cholera;  when,  in 
their  ignorance,  they  built  a  dozen  little  shrines — 
just  nipa  shelters  for  the  Holy  Virgin,  decorated 
with  red  cloth  and  colored  grass — and  held  pro- 
cessions carrying  the  wooden  saints  and  burning 
candles. 

Then  the  locusts  came,  and  settled  on  the  rice- 
fields — a  great  cloud  of  them,  with  whirring 
wings.  They  rattled  on  the  nipa  roofs  like  rain. 
The  children  took  tin  pans  and  drums  and  gave 
the  enemy  a  noisy  welcome.  But  the  rains  fell 
in  the  night,  and  the  next  morning  all  the  ground 


138  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

was  strewn  with  locusts  trying  heavily  to  fly. 
The  ancient  drum  of  the  town-crier  ushered 
in  the  day  of  work,  and  those  who  took  this 
opportunity  to  pay  their  taxes  gathered  at  the 
municipio — about  a  hundred  ugly-looking  men. 
They  were  equipped  with  working  bolos,  with 
their  blades  as  sharp  as  scythes  for  cutting  grass, 
and,  looking  at  them,  you  were  forcibly  reminded 
of  another  day,  another  army  with  a  similar  ac- 
couterment.  Even  the  presidente  went  bare- 
footed as  he  gave  directions  for  the  work.  Some 
were  dispatched  for  nipa  and  bamboo,  while  oth- 
ers mowed  the  grass  around  the  church.  Another 
squad  hauled  heavy  timbers,  singing  as  they  pulled 
in  unison. 

On  Sunday  mornings  a  young  carabao  was 
killed.  The  meat  hacked  off  with  little  reference 
to  anatomy  was  hung  up  in  the  public  stall  among 
the  swarms  of  flies.  Old  women  came  and  han- 
dled every  piece,  and  haggled  a  good  deal  about 
the  price.  Each  finally  selected  one,  and  swing- 
ing it  from  a  short  piece  of  cane,  carried  it  home 
in  triumph.  Morning  mass  was  held  at  the  big 


IN   A   VlSCAYAN   VlU,AG£.  139 

simbahan,  where  the  doleful  music  of  the  band 
suggested  lost  souls  wailing  on  the  borders  of 
Cocytus  or  the  Stygian  creek.  Young  caballeros 
dressed  in  white,  the  concijales  with  their  silver- 
headed  canes  and  baggy  trousers,  and  the  "taos" 
in  diaphanous  and  flimsy  shirts  that  they  had  not 
yet  learned  to  tuck  inside,  stood  by  to  watch  the 
senoritas  on  their  way  to  church.  The  girls 
walked  rather  stiffly  in  their  tight  shoes;  but  as 
soon  as  mass  was  over,  shoes  and  stockings  came 
off,  and  the  villagers  relaxed  into  the  bliss  of  in- 
formality. 

I  learned,  when  I  last  went  to  La  Aurora,  that 
Felicidad  was  going  to  be  married;  that  the 
banns  had  been  announced  last  Sunday  in  the 
church.  The  groom  to  be,  Benito, — or  Bonito  as 
we  called  him  on  account  of  his  good  looks, — 
had  recently  returned  from  college  in  Cebu,  bring- 
ing a  string  of  fighting  cocks,  a  fonografo,  and 
a  piebald  racing  pony.  "When  he  sent  me  the 
white  ribbon,"  said  Felicidad,  "I  was  surprised, 
but  mamma  said  that  I  was  old  enough  to  marry 
him — I  was  fourteen — and  that  the  matter  had 


140  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

been  all  arranged.  And  so  I  wore  the  ribbon  in 
my  hair,  and  also  wrote  my  name  Felicidad  be- 
neath his  on  the  card  that  he  had  sent.  And  after 
that,  when  we  went  walking,  the  duena  was  un- 
necessary." 

She  confessed  naively  to  a  serenade  under  her 
balcony,  of  which  I  seem  to  have  retained  a  hazy 
memory.  And  so  the  usual  pig  and  goat  were 
roasted,  and  the  neighbors'  boys  came  in  to  help. 
The  bride,  with  orange-blossoms  in  her  hair,  the 
daintiest  kid  slippers  on  her  feet,  and  dressed  in  a 
white  mist  of  pina,  rode  away  in  the  new  pony 
cart,  the  only  one  in  town.  The  groom  was 
dressed  in  baggy  trousers,  with  a  pink  shirt  and 
an  azure  tie.  Most  of  the  presents  came  from 
Chino  Santiago's  store;  but  the  best  one  was  a 
beautiful  piano  from  Cebu. 

After  the  service  in  the  church,  a  feast  was 
held  upstairs  in  the  bride's  house.  Ramon,  the 
justice  of  the  peace,  the  padre,  Maestro  Pepin, 
all  the  concijales,  and  the  presidente  were  invited, 
and  the  groom  owned  up  that  he  had  spent  his 
last  cent  on  the  refreshments  that  were  passed 
around.  It  is  the  custom  in  the  poorer  families 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  VILLAGE.  141 

for  the  prospective  groom  to  bond  himself  out 
for  a  certain  length  of  time  to  the  bride's  father, 
or  even  to  purchase  her  with  articles  of  merchan- 
dise. A  combination  of  commercial  interests  was 
the  result,  however,  of  the  marriage  of  Bonito 
and  Felicidad. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
THE  "BROWNIES"  OF  THE  PHILIPPINES. 

How  WOULD  you  like  it,  not  to  have  a  Fourth 
of  July  celebration,  or  a  Christmas  stocking,  or  a 
turkey  on  Thanksgiving-day  ?  The  little  children 
of  the  Philippines  would  be  afraid  of  one  of  our 
firecrackers — they  would  think  it  was  another 
kind  of  "boom-boom"  that  killed  men.  '  A  life- 
sized  turkey  in  the  Philippines  would  be  a  curi- 
osity, the  chickens  and  the  horses  and  the  people 
are  so  small.  The  little  boys  and  girls  do  not 
wear  stockings,  even  around  Christmas-time,  and 
Santa  Claus  would  look  in  vain  for  any  chimneys 
over  there.  The  candy,  if  the  ants  did  not  get 
at  it  first,  would  melt  and  run  down  to  the  toes 
and  heels  of  Christmas  stockings  long  before  the 
little  claimants  were  awake.  Of  course,  they  do 
not  have  plum-puddings,  pumpkin-pies,  and  ap- 
ples. All  the  season  round,  bananas  take  the  place 
of  apples,  cherries,  strawberries,  and  peaches ;  and 
boiled  rice  is  the  only  kind  of  pumpkin-pie  they 
have.  *42 


PHILIPPINE  "BROWNIES."  143 

The  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  little  Brownie 
boys  and  girls  are  very  ignorant.  Most  of  them 
can  not  even  write  their  names,  and  if  you  asked 
them  when  the  family  birthdays  came  they  would 
have  to  go  and  ask  the  padre.  Once,  when  I  was 
living  at  the  convent,  a  girl-mother,  who  had 
walked  in  from  a  town  ten  miles  away,  came  up 
to  register  the  birth  of  a  new  baby  in  the  padre's 
book.  She  stood  before  the  priest  embarrassed, 
digging  her  brown  toes  into  a  big  crack  in  the 
floor.  "At  what  time  was  the  baby  born?"  was 
asked.  "I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  "but  it 
was  about  the  time  the  chickens  were  awake." 

It  is  a  lucky  baby  that  can  get  goat's  milk  to 
drink.  Their  mothers,  living  for  the  most  part 
on  dried  fish  and  rice,  are  never  strong  enough 
to  give  them  a  good  start  in  life.  It  is  a  com- 
mon sight  to  see  the  tiny  litter  decorated  with 
bright  bits  of  paper  and  a  half-dozen  lighted  can- 
dles, with  its  little,  waxen  image  of  a  child,  wait- 
ing without  the  church  door  till  the  padre  comes 
to  say  the  funeral  services. 

In  that  far-distant  country  but  a  small  num- 
ber of  children  ever  have  worn  pretty  clothes — 


144  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

only  a  tiny  shirt;  and  they  are  perfectly  contented, 
as  the  weather  never  gets  uncomfortably  cold. 
Their  mothers  or  their  older  sisters  carry  them 
by  placing  them  astride  the  hip,  where  they  must 
cling  tight  with  their  little,  fat,  bare  legs.  They 
are  soon  old  enough  to  run  around  and  play ;  not 
on  the  grass  among  the  trees,  but  in  the  dust  out 
in  the  street.  Their  houses,  built  of  nipa  and 
bamboo,  do  not  set  back  on  a  green  lawn,  but 
stand  as  near  to  the  hot,  dusty  street  as  possible. 
To  get  inside  the  houses,  which  are  built  on  posts, 
the  babies  have  to  scramble  up  a  bamboo  ladder, 
where  they  might  fall  off  and  break  their  necks. 
At  this  age  they  have  learned  to  stuff  themselves 
with  rice  until  their  little  bodies  look  as  though 
they  were  about  to  burst.  A  stick  of  sugar-cane 
will  taste  as  good  to  them  as  our  best  peppermint 
or  lemon  candy.  All  the  boys  learn  to  ride  as 
soon  as  they  learn  how  to  walk.  Saddles  and 
bridles  are  unnecessary,  as  they  ride  bareback,  and 
guide  the  wiry  Filipino  ponies  with  a  halter  made 
of  rope.  The  carabao  is  a  great  friend  of  Filipino 
boys  and  girls.  He  lets  them  pull  themselves  up 
by  his  tail,  and  ride  him  into  town — as  many  as 


PHILIPPINE  "BROWNIES."  145 

can  make  room  on  his  back,  allowing  them  to 
guide  him  by  a  rope  run  through  his  nose. 

I  do  not  think  that  many  of  the  children  can 
remember  ever  having  learned  to  swim.  The 
mothers,  when  they  take  their  washing  to  the 
river,  do  not  leave  the  little  ones  behind ;  and  you 
can  see  their  glistening  brown  bodies  almost  any 
morning  at  the  riverside  among  the  nipa,  the 
young  mothers  beating  clothes  upon  a  rock,  the 
carabaos  up  to  their  noses  in  the  water,  chewing 
their  cuds  and  dreaming  happy  dreams.  The 
boys  can  swim  and  dive  like  water-rats,  and  often 
remain  in  the  river  all  day  long. 

The  girls,  when  about  five  years  old  look  very 
bright.  Their  hair  is  trimmed  only  in  front  (a 
good  deal  like  a  pony's),  and  their  laughing  eyes 
are  very  brown  and  mischievous.  Most  of  them 
only  wear  a  single  ornament  for  a  dress — a 
"Mother  Hubbard"  of  cheap  cotton  print  which 
they  can  buy  for  two  pesetas  at  the  China  store. 
The  boys  all  wear  long  trousers,  and,  at  church 
or  school,  white  linen  coats,  with  military  collars, 
which  they  call  "Americanos."  The  girls  do  not 
wear  hats.  They  save  their  "Dutchy"  little  bon- 
11 


146  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

nets,  with  the  red  and  yellow  paper  flowers,  for 
the  fiesta  days.  They  wear  white  veils  on  Sun- 
days when  they  go  to  mass.  The  boys'  hats  often 
have  long  brims  like  those  that  we  wear  on  the 
farm.  They  also  have  felt  Tam  o'Shanter  caps, 
which  they  affect  with  quite  a  rakish  tilt. 

Playthings  are  scarce  in  Filipinia.  The  boys 
and  girls  would  be  delighted  with  a  cheap  toy  cart 
or  drum.  The  dolls  are  made  of  cotton  cloth, 
with  painted  cheeks,  and  beads  for  eyes,  dressed 
up  in  scraps  of  colored  pina  cloth  in  imitation  of 
fine  seiioritas.  Kite-time  and  the  peg-top  season 
come  as  in  America.  The  Filipino  kites  are  built 
like  butterflies  or  birds,  and  sometimes  carry  a 
long  beak  which  is  of  use  in  case  of  war.  Kite- 
fighting  is  a  favorite  amusement  in  the  islands, 
where  the  native  boys  are  expert  in  the  art  of 
making  and  manipulating  kites.  Among  the 
other  games  they  play  is  one  that  an  American 
would  recognize  as  "tip-cat,"  and  another  which 
would  be  more  difficult  to  recognize  as  football. 
This  is  played  with  a  light  ball  or  woven  frame- 
work of  rattan.  The  ball  is  batted  from  one 
player  to  another  by  the  heel.  The  national  pet 


PHILIPPINE  "BROWNIES."  147 

is  neither  dog  nor  cat;  it  is  a  chicken  and  the 
grown-up  people  think  almost  as  much  of  this 
unique  pet  as  the  children  do. 

Music  comes  natural  to  the  Filipinos.  Their 
instruments  are  violins,  guitars,  and  flutes.  The 
boys  make  flutes  of  young  bamboo-stalks  which 
are  very  accurate,  and  give  out  a  peculiar  mellow 
tone. 

Fiesta-days  and  Sundays  are  the  great  events 
in  Filipinia.  On  Sunday  morning  the  young  girls, 
in  their  white  veils  and  clean  dresses,  go  to  mass, 
and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  before  the 
church,  kneel  down  upon  the  bare  tiles  while  the 
service  is  performed.  The  church  to  them  is  the 
magnificent  abode  of  saints  and  angels.  The  wax 
images  and  altar  paintings  are  the  only  things 
they  have  in  art  except  the  cheap  prints  of  the 
saints  and  Virgin,  which  they  hang  conspicuously 
in  their  homes.  Pascua,  or  Christmas  week,  is  a 
great  holiday,  but  it  is  very  different  from  the 
Christmas  that  we  know.  The  children  going  to 
the  convent  school  are  taught  to  sing  the  Spanish 
Christmas  carols,  and  on  Christmas  eve  they  go 
outdoors  and  sing  them  on  the  streets  in  the  bright 


148  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

starlight.  Their  voices,  although  untrained,  are 
very  delicate  and  sweet.  The  native  music,  which 
they  often  sing,  like  all  the  music  of  the  southern 
isles,  is  very  melancholy,  often  rising  to  a  hope- 
less wail.  On  the  last  day  of  school  the  padre  will 
distribute  raisins,  nuts,  and  figs,  which  are  the 
only  Christmas  presents  that  the  boys  and  girls 
receive.  At  the  parochial  schools  they  are  taught 
to  do  their  studying  aloud,  and  always  to  commit 
the  text  to  memory.  If  memory  should  fail  them 
in  a  crisis,  they  would  be  extremely  liable  to  have 
their  ears  pulled  by  the  priest,  or  to  be  made  to 
kneel  upon  the  floor  with  outstretched  arms,  thus 
making  the  recitation  somewhat  of  a  tragedy ; 
but  there  are  also  prizes  for  the  meritorious.  One 
book  includes  the  whole  curriculum — religion, 
table  manners,  grammar,  "numbers,"  and  geogra- 
phy— arranged  in  catechisms  of  convenient  length. 
The  boys  are  separated  from  the  girls  in  school 
and  church,  and  I  have  very  seldom  seen  them 
play  together  in  their  homes.  During  the  long 
vacation  they  must  spend  most  of  their  time  at 
work  out  in  the  rice-fields  under  the  hot  sun.  So 
they  would  rather  go  to  school  than  have  va- 
cation. 


PHILIPPINE  "BROWNIES."  149 

With  the  new  schools  and  the  American 
schoolteachers  a  great  opportunity  has  come  to  the 
young  people  of  the  Philippines.  New  books 
with  beautiful  illustrations  have  been  introduced, 
new  songs,  and  a  new  way  of  studying.  It  would 
amuse  you  if  you  were  to  hear  them  read.  "I  do 
not  see  the  pretty  bird"  they  would  pronounce, 
"Ee  doa  noat  say  day  freety  brud."  The  roll- 
call  also  sounds  a  good  deal  different  from  that  in 
our  own  schools,  where  we  have  our  Williams, 
Johns,  and  Henrys;  but  the  Filipino  names  are 
very  pretty  (mostly  names  of  Spanish  saints), 
Juan,  Mariano,  Maximo,  Benito,  and  Torribio 
for  boys ;  Carnation,  Bernarda,  and  Adela  for  the 
girls.  The  boys  especially  are  very  bright,  and 
they  are  learning  rapidly,  not  only  grammar  and 
arithmetic,  but  how  to  play  baseball  and  tag  and 
other  games  that  make  the  child-life  of  America 
so  pleasant. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CHRISTMAS  IN   FIUPINTA. 

WHILE  you  are  in  a  land  of  starlight,  frost, 
and  sleighbells,  here  the  cool  wind  brushes  through 
the  palms  and  the  blue  sea  sparkles  in  the  sun.  "In 
every  Christian  kind  of  place"  it  is  the  time  of 
Christmas  bells  and  Christmas  masses.  Even  at 
the  Aloran  convent — about  the  last  outpost  of 
civilization  (only  a  little  way  beyond  live  the  wild 
mountain  folk — sun-worshipers  and  the  Moham- 
medans) the  padre  has  prepared  a  treat  of  nuts 
and  raisins  for  the  boys  and  girls — somewhat  of 
a  Christmas  cheer  even  so  far  across  the  sea.  They 
have  been  practicing  their  Christmas  songs,  Ave 
Maria  and  the  "Oratorio,"  which  they  will  sing 
around  the  streets  on  Christmas  eve.  The  school- 
boys have  received  their  presents — dictionaries, 
sugared  crackers,  and  perfumed  soap — and  now 
that  their  vacation  has  begun,  their  little  brown 
heads  can  be  seen  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the  blue 
sea.  Their  Christmas-tree  will  be  the  royal  palm ; 
and  nipa  boughs  their  mistletoe. 

150 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FILIPINIA.  151 

Last  Christmas  in  the  provinces  I  spent  in 
lloilo  at  a  hostel  kept  by  a  barefooted  Spanish 
landlady,  slovenly  in  a  loose  morning-gown  and 
with  disheveled  hair,  who  stored  the  eggs  in  her 
own  bedroom  and  presided  over  the  untidy  staff 
of  house-boys.  As  she  usually  slept  late,  we  break- 
fasted without  eggs,  being  limited  to  chocolate  and 
cakes.  The  only  option  was  a  glass  of  lukewarm 
coffee  thinned  to  rather  sickening  proportions  with 
condensed  milk.  Dinner,  however,  was  a  more 
elaborate  affair,  consisting  of  a  dozen  courses, 
which  began  with  soup  and  ended  with  bananas 
or  the  customary  cheese  and  guava.  The  several 
meat  and  chicken  courses,  the  "balenciona" — 
boiled  rice  mixed  with  chicken  giblets  and  red  pep- 
pers— and  the  bread,  baked  hard  and  eaten  with- 
out butter,  was  washed  down  with  a  generous 
glass  of  tinto  wine.  A  pile  of  rather  moist  plates 
stood  in  front  of  you,  and  as  you  finished  one 
course  an  untidy  thumb  removed  the  topmost 
plate,  thus  gradually  diminishing  the  pile. 

The  dining-room  was  very  interesting.  A 
pretentious  mirror  in  a  tarnished  gilt  frame  was 
the  piece  de  resistance.  The  faded  chromes  of  the 


152  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

royal  family,  the  Saints,  and  the  Enfanta  were  re- 
lieved by  the  brilliant  lithographs  presenting 
brewers'  advertisements.  A  majestic  chandelier, 
considerably  fly-specked,  but  elaborately  orna- 
mented with  glass  prisms,  dropped  from  the  fres- 
coed ceiling,  and  a  cabinet  containing  miscella- 
neous seashells,  family  photographs,  and  starfish 
occupied  one  corner  of  the  room. 

There  was  a  Christmas  eve  reception  at  the 
home  of  the  "Dramatic  Club,"  where  the  refresh- 
ments of  cigars  and  anisette  and  bock  beer  were 
distributed  with  liberal  hand.  The  Filipino  always 
does  things  lavishly.  The  evening  was  devoted 
to  band  concerts — the  municipal  band  in  the  pa- 
vilion rendering  the  Mexican  waltzes,  "Over  the 
Waves,"  "The  Dove,"  and  other  favorites,  while 
the  "upper  ten"  paraded  in  the  moonlight  under 
the  mimosa-trees — serenades  under  the  Spanish 
balconies,  and  carol-singing  to  the  strumming  of 
guitars.  The  houses  were  illumined  with  square 
tissue  paper  lanterns  of  soft  colors.  The  public 
market  was  a  fairyland  of  light.  The  girls  at  the 
tobacco  booths  offered  a  special  cigarette  tied  with 
blue  ribbon  as  a  souvenir  of  the  December  holi- 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FILIPINIA.  153 

days.  A  mass  at  midnight  was  conducted  in  the 
venerable  church.  As  the  big  bronze  bells  up  in 
the  belfry  tolled  the  hour  the  auditorium  was  filled 
with  worshipers — women  in  flapping  slippers  and 
black  veils ;  girls  smelling  of  cheap  perfumery  and 
cocoanut-oil,  in  their  stiff  gauze  dresses  with  the 
butterfly  sleeves ;  barefooted  boys  and  young  men 
redolent  of  cigarettes  and  musk.  A  burst  of  music 
from  the  organ  in  the  loft  commenced  the  serv- 
ices, which  were  concluded  with  the  passing  of  the 
Host  and  a  selection  by  the  band.  The  priest  on 
this  occasion  wore  his  gold-embroidered  chasuble ; 
the  acolytes,  red  surplices  and  lace. 

The  streets  next  morning — Christmas-day — 
were  thronged  with  merry-makers.  Strangers 
from  the  mountain  tribes,  wild,  hungry-looking 
creatures,  had  strayed  into  town,  not  only  for  the 
excitement  of  the  cockpit,  but  to  do  their  trading 
and  receive  their  share  of  alms,  which  are  dis- 
tributed by  all  good  Catholics  at  this  season  of 
the  year. 

Here  on  the  corner  was  a  great  wag  in  an  ass's 
head,  accomplishing  a  clumsy  dance  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  crowd.  Around  the  cockpit  chaos 


154  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

was  the  order  of  the  day.  The  eager  fighting- 
cocks,  in  expectation  of  the  combat,  straining  at 
their  tethers,  published  to  the  world  their  lusty 
challenges.  The  "talent,"  with  delicious  thrills, 
were  hefting  favorite  champions,  and  hastening 
to  register  their  wagers  with  the  bank. 

The  cock-fights  lasted  the  entire  week;  at  the 
end  of  that  time  the  erratic  "wheel  of  fortune" 
had  involved  in  ruin  many  an  enthusiast  who  had 
unfortunately  played  too  heavily  the  losing  bird. 

A  strolling  troop  of  actors  came  to  visit  us 
that  night.  They  carried  their  own  scenery  and 
wardrobe  with  them,  and  the  children  who  were 
to  present  the  comedy  were  dressed  already  for  the 
first  act.  As  they  filed  in,  followed  by  a  mob  of 
ragamuffins  who  had  seen  the  show  a  dozen  times 
or  more  without  apparent  diminution  of  enjoy- 
ment, the  stage  manager  arranged  the  scenery  and 
green-room,  which  consisted  of  a  folding  screen. 
The  orchestra,  with  bamboo  flutes,  guitars,  and 
mandolins,  took  places  on  a  bench,  where  they  be- 
gan the  overture,  beating  the  measure  with  bare 
feet  and  with  as  much  delight  as  though  they  were 
about  to  witness  the  performance  for  the  first  time. 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FIUPINIA.  155 

The  proprietor  informed  us  that  the  entertainment 
was  to  be  a  comedy  of  old  Toledo.  It  was  some- 
what of  a  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  affair;  one  of  the 
principals,  concealed  behind  the  "leading  man," 
using  his  own  arms  for  gestures,  sang  his  repre- 
sentative love  for  the  seiiorita  in  the  Spanish 
dancer's  costume.  The  Castanet  dance  was  re- 
peatedly encored,  especially  by  those  familiar  with 
the  program,  who  desired  that  we  appreciate  it  to 
its  full  extent.  The  actors  in  this  dance  were 
dressed  as  Spanish  buccaneers  are  popularly  sup- 
posed to  dress,  in  purple  breeches  buttoned  at  the 
knee,  red  sashes,  and  gold  lace.  .  .  . 

Last  night  at  our  own  church  three  paper  lan- 
terns, shaped  like  stars  and  representing  the  "three 
wise  men,"  at  the  climax  of  the  mass  were  worked 
on  wires  so  that  they  floated  overhead  along  the 
auditorium,  and  finally  came  to  rest  above  the 
altar,  which  had  been  transformed  into  a  manger, 
the  more  realistic  on  account  of  the  pigs,  ducks, 
and  chickens  manufactured  out  of  paper  that  had 
been  disposed  around. 

To-day  three  men  in  red  are  traveling  from 
house  to  house  with  candles  followed  by  an  at- 


156  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

tendant  with  a  bell,  ringing  away  the  evil  spirits 
for  a  year.  The  councilmen  in  snowy  blouses  and 
blue  pantaloons,  with  their  official  canes,  are  mak- 
ing their  official  calls,  and  Padre  Pedro  in  his  pony 
cart  has  been  around  to  visit  his  parishioners.  The 
band,  equipped  with  brand  new  uniforms  and  in- 
struments, is  playing  underneath  the  convent  bal- 
cony. Their  duties  during  the  festivities  are  stren- 
uous; for  they  must  serenade  the  residence  of 
every  magnate  in  the  town,  receiving  contributions 
of  pesetas,  cigarettes,  and  gin. 

This  afternoon  we  made  our  round  of  calls, 
for  every  family  keeps  open  house.  A  number  of 
matinee  balls  were  in  session,  where  the  natives 
danced  "clack-clack"  around  the  floor  to  the  mo- 
notonous drone  of  home-made  instruments.  Our 
friends  all  wished  us  a  "Ma-ayon  Pascua"  or 
"Feliz  Pascua,"  for  which  "Merry  Christmas" 
they  expected  some  remembrance  of  the  day.  Our 
efforts  were  rewarded  by  innumerable  gifts  of 
cigarettes  and  many  offers  of  tanduay  and  gin. 
At  one  place  we  experimented  with  a  piece  of 
"bud-bud,"  which  is  (as  its  name  implies)  a  sweet- 
meat made  of  rice  paste  mixed  with  sugar.  The 
hams  with  sugar  frosting,  and  the  cakes  flavored 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FILIPINIA.  157 

with  native  limes,  and  cut  in  the  shape  of  the  "En- 
sanguined Heart,"  were  more  acceptable.  At  one 
house  we  received  a  cake  made  in  the  image  of  a 
lamb,  with  sugar  ringlets  representing  fleece.  At 
our  departure,  "many  thanks,  sir,  for  the  visit," 
and  a  final  attempt  to  get  rid  of  another  cigarette. 
It  is  in  bad  taste  to  refuse.  A  Filipino  host  would 
feel  offended  at  your  not  accepting  what  he  of- 
fered. He  would  feel  as  though  discrimination 
were  implied. 

At  night  after  the  cock-fight  one  droll  fellow 
brought  around  a  miniature  marionette  theater,  of 
\\  hich  he  was  the  proud  proprietor.  While  his  as- 
sistant blew  a  bamboo  flute  behind  the  scenes,  the 
puppets  danced  fandangoes  and  played  football  in 
a  very  lifelike  manner.  Seated  on  an  empty 
cracker-box  in  front,  surrounded  by  the  ragged 
picaninnies,  sat  Dolores,  with  her  sparkling  eyes, 
lips  parted,  and  her  black  hair  hanging  loose, — 
oblivious  to  everything  except  the  marionettes. 

The  star  attraction  was  preceded  by  applause. 
The  number  was  announced  by  those  familiar  with 
the  exhibition  as  a  "Moro  combat,"  and  as  the 
assistant  struck  a  harrowing  obligate  on  an  old 
oil-can,  the  Moros  appeared  with  fighting  campa- 


158  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Ions  and  barbarous-looking  shields.  The  crowd 
expressed  its  approbation  in  wild  howls.  The  first 
two  rounds  were  rather  tame.  "Afraid !  Afraid !" 
exclaimed  the  crowd,  but  presently  the  combatants 
began  to  warm  up  to  their  work  and  to  make 
frantic  lunges  at  each  other  at  the  vital  spot.  This 
was  the  time  of  breathless  and  instinctive  pressing 
forward  from  the  back  rows.  Somebody  cried 
out,  "Cebu!"  or  "Down  in  front !"  and  then  again, 
"Patai!"  which  means  "dead."  One  of  the  war- 
riors at  this  cue  flopped  supine  on  the  stage,  and 
the  suppressed  excitement  broke.  The  victor,  not 
content  with  mere  manslaughter,  plied  his  sword 
so  energetically  as  quickly  to  reduce  his  victim  to 
a  state  of  hash.  At  this  point  his  Satanic  majesty, 
the  curtain  manager,  saw  fit  to  intervene,  and  with 
a  long  spear  he  successfully  probed  the  limp  re- 
mains, completing  the  assassination.  I  had  not 
known  until  then  what  a  young  barbarian  Dolores 
was. 

The  last  attraction  of  our  Christmas  week  was 
a  genuine  Mystery  play,  the  Virgin  Mary  being 
represented  by  a  girl  in  soiled  white  stockings  and 
a  confirmation  dress.  The  Christ  Child  was  a 
Spanish  doll  in  a  glass  case.  There  were  the  three 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FILIPINIA.  159 

wise  men — one  in  a  long  beard  and  a  pink  mask, 
and  the  others  in  gold  braid  and  knickerbockers — 
more  like  dandies  than  philosophers.  "Joseph" 
was  splendid,  with  a  shepherd's  crook  and  a  som- 
brero. Adoration  before  the  manger  was  the 
theme  that  was  developed  in  a  series  of  ballets 
danced  by  the  children  to  a  tambourine  and  cast- 
anet  accompaniment.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
play,  the  little  actors  in  their  starry  costumes, 
Joseph  and  the  Virgin  (carrying  the  Babe),  the 
three  philosophers,  and  the  musicians  and  the 
army  of  admiring  followers,  filed  out  into  the 
moonlight,  and  as  the  sweet  music  of  the  "Shep- 
herds' Song"  diminished  gradually,  they  disap- 
peared within  a  shadowy  grove  of  palms. 

A   CHRISTMAS   FEAST. 

When  Senor  Pedro  gave  his  Christmas  feast, 
he  \vent  about  it  in  the  orthodox  way.  That  is, 
he  began  at  midnight  Christmas  eve.  The  Christ- 
mas pig  we  were  to  have  had,  however,  disap- 
pointed us — and  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

Came  Senor  Pedro  early  in  the  morning  of 
the  twenty-fourth,  and  "In  the  mountains,"  Senor 
Pedro  said,  "runs  a  fat  pig."  Usa  ca  babui  uga 


160  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

dacu!  A  regular  feast  of  a  pig  running  at  large 
near  the  macao  woods  on  the  slope  beyond  Mer- 
cario's  hemp-fields! 

Nothing  would  do  but  that  I  buckle  on  my 
Colt's — a  weapon  that  I  had  done  much  destruc- 
tion with  among  the  lesser  anthropoids  in  the 
vicinity.  Then  we  set  out  radiantly  for  the  hills, 
with  Senor  Pedro  leading  and  a  municipal  police- 
man with  us  to  take  home  the  pig.  We  soon  ar- 
rived at  the  pig's  stamping  grounds.  We  had  not 
long  to  wait.  There  was  a  snapping  of  the  under- 
brush, and  "Mr.  Babui"  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
His  great  plank  side  and  sagging  belly  was  as  fair 
a  mark  as  any  sportsman  could  have  wished.  His 
greedy  little  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ground 
where  he  was  rooting  for  his  Christmas  dinner. 

Bang!  The  bullet  from  the  army  Colt's  sped 
true.  Our  pig,  flat  on  his  back,  was  squealing  des- 
perately, and  his  feet  were  pawing  the  air  as  fast 
as  though  he  had  been  run  by  clockwork  and  had 
been  suddenly  released  from  contact  with  the 
ground.  Then  the  municipal  policeman  went  to 
pick  him  up.  But  lo,  a  miracle !  Our  Christmas 
pig,  inspired  by  supersusine  terror  on  the  approach 
pf  the  dire  representative  of  law,  regained  his 


CHRISTMAS  IN  FIUPINIA.  161 

legs,  and  before  we  could  recover  from  our  aston- 
ishment, had  scudded  away  with  an  expiring 
squeak  like  that  emitted  from  a  musical  bal- 
loon on  its  collapse.  We  never  found  the  pig. 
He  was  just  mean  enough  to  die  in  privacy. 

But  there  was  to  be  some  compensation. 
What,  though  our  Christmas  dinner  had  escaped  ? 
1  managed  to  bring  down  a  monkey  that  for  some 
time  had  been  chattering  and  scolding  at  us  from 
a  tree,  and  with  this  substitute — a  delicacy  rare 
to  native  palates — marched  triumphantly  back  to 
the  town. 

Exactly  at  midnight  the  senores  took  their 
seats  around  the  board.  The  orchestra  was  sta- 
tioned in  an  elevated  alcove  in  the  next  room.  On 
the  benches  sat  the  women,  from  the  dainty  Juliana 
in  her  pink  cotton  hosiery  and  white  kid  slippers 
to  the  old  witch  Paola,  the  town  scold.  We 
plunged  in  without  ceremony,  for  there  were  no 
knives  or  forks.  Heaping  platefuls  of  rice  were 
served  with  the  stewed  meat — cut  in  small  pieces 
that  "just  fit  the  hand,"  and  cooked  with  vege- 
tables. At  my  request  the  monkey  had  been 
roasted  whole.  "All  la  same  bata"  (baby)  cried 
my  host,  and  sure,  I  never  felt  more  like  a  canni- 

12 


162  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

bal  in  all  my  life.  I  shuddered  later  when,  the 
ladies  at  the  table,  Juliana  gnawed  the  thigh-bone 
of  the  little  beast  with  relish. 

Sefior  Pedro  kept  the  orchestra  supplied  with 
gin,  with  the  result  that  what  they  lacked  in  accu- 
racy they  made  up  for  in  enthusiasm.  In  the  dim 
room,  lighted  only  by  the  smoky  "kinkes,"  we 
could  see  the  hungry  eyes  of  those  awaiting  the 
third  table — the  retainers  and  the  poor  relations. 
On  the  boards  below  was  spread  a  banquet  of  rice 
and  tuba  for  the  multitude. 

The  party  broke  up  with  a  dance,  and  as  the 
pointers  of  the  Southern  Cross  faded  from  the 
pale  sky,  the  happy  merrymakers  filed  off  to  their 
beds.  They  had  so  little  in  this  far-off  corner  of 
the  world,  and  yet  they  were  content.  Had  not 
the  stars  looked  down  upon  them  through  the 
tropic  night?  Had  not  the  blue  sea  broken  in 
phosphorescent  ridges  at  their  feet?  And  didn't 
they  have  the  Holy  Virgin  on  the  walls  to  smile 
a  blessing  on  their  little  scene  of  revelry?  O,  it 
was  Christmas  over  all  the  world!  And  on  this 
day  at  least  the  white  man  and  the  "little  brown 
brother"  could  shake  hands  over  mutual  interests. 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME. 

THE  shutters  of  the  house  across  the  street 
were  closed.  Under  the  balcony,  near  where  the 
road  was  strewn  with  scarlet  blossoms  from  the 
fire-tree,  carpenters  were  hammering  and  sawing 
busily.  Shaped  by  the  antiquated  handsaw  and 
the  bolos,  a  rude  coffin  gradually  assumed  its  grim 
proportions.  A  group  of  schoolboys,  drawn  by 
curiosity,  looked  on  indifferently  while  keeping 
up  a  desultory  game  of  tag.  Upstairs,  the  wo- 
men, dressed  in  the  black  veils  of  mourning,  shuf- 
fling noiselessly  around,  were  burning  candles  at 
the  "Queen  of  Heaven's"  shrine.  They  murmured 
prayers  mechanically — not  without  a  certain  rev- 
erence and  awe — to  usher  the  departing  soul  into 
the  land  beyond.  A  smoky  wall-lamp,  glimmer- 
ing near  the  door,  illuminated  the  black  crucifix 
above  the  bed.  In  the  dim  candle-light  vague 
shadows  danced  on  the  white  walls. 
163 


164  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

The  priest  had  heard  the  last  confession 
of  Jose  Pilar.  Not  that  Jose  had  been  one  of 
the  padre's  friends.  In  fact,  he  was  suspected 
during  the  past  year  of  having  been  a  secret  agent 
of  Aglipay,  the  self -consecrated  Bishop  of  Manila, 
and  the  target  of  the  accusation  and  invective  that 
the  Church  of  Rome  is  so  proficient  in.  The  re- 
cent rulings  of  the  order  had  abolished  the  con- 
fession fee;  but  the  long  road  was  uncertain  and 
the  dangers  great.  The  padre  rubbed  his  hands 
as  he  went  out.  He  had  received  a  "voluntary" 
contribution  for  his  services,  with  the  assurance 
that  a  series  of  masses  would  be  ordered  by  the 
widow  of  Jose  Pilar.  Through  the  stiff  palms, 
the  cold  sea,  gray  as  steel,  washed  the  far-distant 
shores  of  lonely  islands,  and  the  red  glow  of  the 
setting  sun  had  died  away. 

The  padre  thought  about  the  plump  goats  and 
the  chickens  in  the  new  stockade.  The  simple 
people  brought  their  chickens  to  the  convent,  de- 
nying themselves  all  but  the  fish  and  rice.  The 
mothers  weaned  their  puny  brats  on  rice;  they 
stuffed  them  with  it  till  their  swollen  paunches 
made  a  grotesque  contrast  with  their  skinny  legs. 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  165 

Childbirth  is  one  of  the  minor  incidents  of  Fili- 
pinia.  Where  is  the  house  that  does  n't  swarm 
with  babies,  like  the  celebrated  residence  of  the 
old  woman  in  the  shoe  ?  When  one  of  these  spar- 
rows falls,  the  little  song  that  dies  is  never 
missed. 

How7  many  times  had  Father  Cipriano  climbed 
the  rickety  ladder  to  the  nipa  dwellings,  entering 
the  closed  room  where  the  patient  lay  upon  the 
floor!  A  gaping  crowd  of  yokels  stood  around, 
while  the  old  woman  faithfully  kneaded  the  ab- 
domen. The  native  medicaster,  having  placed  the 
green  leaves  on  the  patient's  temples,  would  be 
brewing  a  concoction  of  emollient  simples.  The 
open  shirt  disclosed  upon  the  patient's  breast  the 
amulet  which  had  been  blessed  by  Padre  Cipriano, 
and  was  stamped  with  a  small  figure  of  a  saint. 
The  holy  father  smiled  as  he  reflected  how  they 
spent  their  last  cent  for  the  funeral  ceremonies, 
while  the  doctor's  fee  would  be  about  a  dozen 
eggs.  And  even  now  that  death  had  come  to  one 
not  quite  so  ignorant  and  simple  as  the  rest,  the 
funeral  celebrations  would  be  but  the  more  elab- 
orate. Not  every  one  who  could  afford  a  coffin 


1 66  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

in  Malingasag!  And  as  the  padre  crossed  the 
plaza  he  lighted  a  cigarette. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  annoyance  that  he  saw 
before  the  side  door  of  the  church  a  tiny  litter 
cheaply  decorated  with  bright  paper  and  red  cloth. 
The  yellow  candles  threw  a  fitful  light  over  the 
little  image  on  the  bier.  It  was  the  image  of  a 
child,  a  thing  of  wax,  clothed  in  a  white  dress, 
with  a  tinsel  crown  upon  its  head.  One  of  the 
sacristans  was  drumming  a  tattoo  upon  the  bells. 
The  padre  motioned  him  to  discontinue.  He 
would  have  his  gin-and-water  first,  and  then  devo- 
tions, lasting  twenty  minutes.  After  devo- 
tions he  could  easily  dispose  of  the  small  child. 
So  the  two  humble  women  waited  in  patience  at 
the  door,  and  the  cheap  candles  sputtered  and  went 
out  before  the  good  priest  could  find  time  to  hurry 
through  the  unimportant  funeral  services  that 
meant  to  him  only  a  dollar  or  two  at  best  in  the 
depreciated  silver  currency.  Already  night  was 
overshadowing  the  palm-groves  as  the  pathetic 
little  group  filed  out  and  trudged  across  the  rice- 
pads  toward  the  cemetery. 

The  Filipinos  regard  the  American  doctors 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  167 

with  suspicion.  When  a  snakebite  can  be  cured 
by  a  burnt  piece  of  carabao  horn,  or  when  the 
leaves  or  bits  of  paper  stuck  upon  the  temple  will 
relieve  the  fever  or  the  dysentery,  what  is  the  use 
of  drugs  and  medicines  and  things  that  people  do 
not  understand  ?  Once,  out  of  the  kindness  of  his 
heart,  an  army  doctor  that  I  knew,  prescribed  a 
valuable  ointment  for  a  child  afflicted  by  a  running- 
sore.  The  child  was  in  a  terrible  condition,  as  the 
sore  had  eaten  away  the  flesh  and  bone,  leaving 
a  large  hole  under  the  lower  lip  through  which 
the  roots  of  the  teeth  were  all  exposed.  The  par- 
ents had  not  washed  the  child  for  weeks.  They 
actually  believed  that  bathing  was  injurious  when 
one  was  sick.  The  doctor,  giving  them  directions 
how  to  use  the  medicine,  asked  them,  as  an  ex- 
periment, what  fee  he  might  expect.  He  knew 
well  that  if  the  priest  had  asked  this  question, 
they  would  eagerly  have  offered  everything  they 
had.  So  he  was  not  surprised  when  they  replied 
that  they  were  very  poor,  and  that  they  did  not 
think  the  service  was  worth  anything.  The  doc- 
tor turned  them  away  good  naturedly,  but  they 
returned  the  next  day  with  the  medicine,  report- 


1 68  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ing  that  undoubtedly  it  was  no  good,  because,  for- 
sooth, the  child  had  cried  when  they  applied  it! 
As  a  peace-offering  they  brought  a  dozen  miser- 
able bananas. 

Slinging  a  tablet  around  his  neck,  a  "valuable 
remedy  against  the  pest,"  the  Filipino  thinks  that 
he  is  reasonably  secure  against  disease,  and  that 
if  he  becomes  afflicted,  it  is  the  result  of  some 
transgression  against  heaven.  I  happened  to  re- 
ceive a  startling  proof,  however,  of  its  efficacy 
when  the  padre's  house-boy,  rather  a  bright  young 
fellow,  made  me  a  present  of  his  "remedy"  and 
died  the  next  day  of  cholera.  Still  I  have  seen  the 
" anting-anting"  which  is  supposed  to  render  the 
wearer  bullet-proof,  pierced  with  the  balls  of  the 
Krag-Jorgensen  and  stained  with  blood.  Al- 
though the  Viscayans  show  considerable  sympa- 
thy toward  one  when  he  is  sick,  the  native  dentist 
cutting  out  the  tooth  with  a  dull  knife,  we  would 
consider  almost  too  barbarous  to  practice  in  Amer- 
ica. The  Igorrotes  have  a  way  of  driving  out  the 
fever  with  a  slow  fire;  but  between  this  Spartan 
method  and  Viscayan  ignorance  the  choice  is  diffi- 
cult. No  wonder  that  the  people  drop  off  with 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  169 

surprising  suddenness.  Your  laundry  man  or 
baker  fails  to  come  around  some  morning,  and 
you  ask  one  of  your  neighbors  where  he  is.  The 
neighbor,  shifting  his  wad  of  buy  a  to  the  other 
cheek,  will  gradually  wake  up  and  answer  some- 
think  ending  in  "ambut."  "Ambut"  is  a  con- 
venient word  for  the  Viscayan,  as  it  means  "do  n't 
know,"  and  even  if  he  is  informed,  the  Filipino 
often  is  too  lazy  or  indifferent  to  explain.  You 
finally  discover  some  one  more  accommodating 
who  replies :  "Why,  have  n't  you  heard  ?  He  died 
the  other  day." 

Sulkiness,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
girls  and  boys,  develops  into  surliness  in  men  and 
billingsgate  in  women.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that 
little  Diega,  the  sulkiest  and  prettiest  of  the  Vis- 
cayan beauties,  in  a  few  years  will  be  gambling 
at  the  cock-fights,  smoking  cigars,  and  losing  her 
money  every  Sunday  afternoon  at  Mariana's 
monte  game.  Vulgarity  with  them  goes  down 
as  wit,  and  the  Viscayan  women  make  a  fine  art  of 
profanity.  It  is  always  the  woman  in  a  family 
quarrel  who  is  most  in  evidence.  And  even  the 
delicate  Adela  when  the  infant  Richard  fell  down- 


170  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

stairs  the  other  day,  cried,  "Mother  of  God!" 
which  she  considered  to  be  more  appropriate  than 
"Jesus,  Marie,  lose  pi" 

On  entering  one  of  the  common  houses,  you 
would  be  astonished  at  the  pitiable  lack  of  fur- 
nishings. The  floor  is  made  of  slats  of  split 
bamboo,  tied  down  with  strips  of  cane.  The  walls 
are  simply  the  dried  nipa  branches,  fastened  down 
with  bamboo  laths.  The  only  pictures  on  the 
walls  are  the  cheap  prints  of  saints,  the  "Lady  of 
the  Rosary,"  or  illustrations  clipped  together  with 
the  reading  matter  from  some  stray  American 
magazine.  The  picture  of  a  certain  popular  shoe 
manufacturer  is  sometimes  given  the  place  of 
honor  near  the  crucifix.  If  any  attempt  at  decora- 
tion has  been  made,  the  lack  of  taste  of  the  Vis- 
cayans  is  at  once  apparent.  For  the  ancient  fly- 
specked  chromo  of  the  "Prospect  of  Madrid"  is  as 
artistic  in  their  eyes  as  though  the  advertisement 
of  a  certain  cracker  factory  did  not  adorn  the 
margin.  The  undressed  pillars  that  support  the 
house,  run  through  the  floor.  The  nipa  shutters 
that  protect  the  windows  are  propped  open,  mak- 
ing heavy  awnings,  and  permitting  a  free  circu- 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  171 

lation  of  the  breeze.  There  are  no  ceilings  in  these 
houses,  and  the  entire  framework  of  the  roof  is 
visible.  A  cheap  red  curtain,  trimmed  with  lace, 
is  draped  before  the  entrance  to  the  sleeping-room. 
While  in  the  better  frame-constructed  residences 
an  old  Spanish  tester  bed  with  a  cane  bottom  may 
be  seen  in  this  apartment,  here  only  the  straw 
mats  and  the  cotton  bolsters  are  to  be  found.  A 
basket  hanging  from  a  bamboo  spring  serves  as 
a  cradle  for  the  baby,  but  it  is  a  pretty  lucky  baby 
that  indulges  in  this  luxury,  as  most  of  the  chil- 
dren, spreading  the  mats  upon  the  floor  at  night, 
pillow  their  heads  upon  the  bolsters,  ten  in  a  row, 
and  go  to  sleep.  A  marble-topped  table  and  a  few 
chairs,  formally  arranged  as  though  in  prepara- 
tion for  a  conclave,  are  the  features  of  the  larger 
homes;  but  generally  the  furniture  consists  of  a 
long  bench,  a  wooden  table,  and  a  camphor  wood 
box,  which  contains  the  family  treasures,  and  the 
key  to  which  the  woman  of  the  house  wears  in  her 
belt — a  symbol  of  authority. 

On  climbing  the  outside  stairway  to  the 
living-rooms  you  find  your  passage  blocked  by 
a  small  fence.  In  trying  to  step  over  this 


172  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

you  nearly  crush  a  naked  baby,  and  a  yellow 
dog  snaps  venomously  at  your  heels.  You  enter 
the  main  room,  where  the  pony-saddle  and  the 
hemp-scales  may  be  stored.  The  Filipinos  are 
great  visitors,  and  you  will  find  a  ring  of  old  men 
squatting  upon  the  benches  like  so  many  hens, 
chewing  the  betel-nut  and  nursing  their  enormous 
feet.  Some  fellow  in  the  corner,  with  a  chin  like 
a  sea-urchin,  strums  a  tune  monotonously  on  an 
old  guitar.  Your  host  arises,  offers  you  a  glass 
of  gin  and  a  cigar  or  cigarette,  and  asks  you  to 
"lincoot  dinhi."  So,  at  his  invitation,  you  sit 
down,  and  are  expected  to  begin  the  conversation. 
Such  conversation  is  enlightening  and  runs  some- 
what like  this: 

"Yes,  thank  you,  I  am  very  well;  Yes,  we 
are  all  well.  Everything  is  well.  .  .  . 
The  beer  of  the  Americans  is  very  good.  .  .  . 
Whisky  is  very  strong.  .  .  .  The  Filipino 
whisky  is  not  good  for  anything.  .  .  .  It  is 
very  dull  here.  It  is  not  our  custom  to  have  pretty 
girls.  .  .  .  What  is  your  salary?  All  the 
Americans  are  very  rich.  We  are  all  very  poor. 
.  .  .  The  horses  in  America  are  very  large. 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  173 

Why  ?  ...  If  the  people  want  me,  I  will  be 
elected  mayor.  But  let  them  decide.  .  .  . 
After  a  while  will  you  not  let  me  have  some  medi- 
cine? The  wife  has  beri-beri  very  bad." 

The  family  arises  with  the  chickens.  For  the 
Filipino  boy  no  chores  are  waiting  to  be  done. 
The  ponies  and  the  dogs  are  never  fed.  Nobody 
seems  to  care  much  for  the  animals.  With  the 
exception  of  the  fighting-cock,  chickens,  dogs, 
pigs,  and  carabaos  are  left  to  forage  for  them- 
selves. The  pigs  and  dogs  are  public  scavengers, 
and  the  poor  curs  that  howl  the  night  long,  till 
you  wish  that  they  were  only  allowed  to  bay  the 
moon  in  daytime,  stalk  the  barren  shores  or  rice- 
pads  in  the  hope  of  preying  upon  carrion.  A 
Filipino  dog,  though  pinched  and  starved,  has 
not  the  courage  even  to  catch  a  young  kid  by  the 
ear,  and  much  less  to  say  "boo"  to  a  goose.  It 
is  surprising  how  the  ponies,  feeding  upon  the 
coarse  grass,  ever  become  as  wiry  as  they  do.  Evi- 
dently, to  the  Filipino,  animals  do  not  have  feel- 
ings; for  they  often  ride  their  ponies  furiously, 
though  the  creature's  back  may  be  a  running  sore. 
In  using  wooden  saddles  they  forget  to  place  a 


174  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

pad  beneath  them,  and  the  saddle  thus  becomes 
an  instrument  of  torture. 

After  the  morning  bath  in  the  cool  river,  a 
cup  of  chocolate  or  a  little  bowl  of  rice  will  serve 
for  breakfast.  Then  the  women  attend  morning 
mass  and  kneel  for  half  an  hour  on  the  hard  tiles. 
It  is  still  early  in  the  day,  and  the  fantastic  moun- 
tains, with  their  \vonderful  lights  and  shadows, 
are  just  throwing  off  the  veil  of  mist.  Now,  in 
the  clear  light,  the  huge,  swelling  bosom  of  the 
hills,  the  densely-timbered  slopes  beyond,  stand 
out  distinctly,  like  a  picture  in  a  stereoscope.  The 
heavy  forests,  crowded  with  gigantic  trees,  seem 
like  a  mound  of  bushes  thickly  bunched.  Off  to 
the  left  rises  a  barren  ridge,  that  might  have  been 
the  spine  of  some  old  reptile  of  the  mezozoic  age ; 
and  in  the  center  a  Plutonic  ampitheater — the 
council-chamber  of  the  gods — is  swept  by  shadows 
from  the  passing  clouds,  or  glorified  for  a  brief 
moment  by  a  flood  of  light. 

The  boys  are  then  sent  out  to  catch  one  of  the 
ponies  for  their  father,  who  is  going  to  inspect  his 
hemp  plantation  on  the  foot-hills.  His  progress 
will  at  first  be  rather  slow ;  for  he  is  a  great  chat- 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  175 

terbox,  and  if  he  finds  some  crony  along  the  road, 
he  will  dismount  and  drink  a  glass  of  tuba  with 
him,  or  dicker  with  him  over  an  exchange  of 
fighting  cocks.  The  birds  are  then  brought  out, 
and  the  two  men  squat  down,  with  the  birds  in 
hand,  and  set  them  pecking  at  each  other  to  dis- 
play their  fine  points.  But  the  string  of  hombres, 
with  their  bolos  slung  about  their  waists,  making 
for  the  mountains,  reminds  the  planter  that  he 
must  be  getting  on.  His  fields  are  let  out  to 
these  fellows,  who  will  pay  him  a  proportion  of 
the  hemp  which  they  can  strip.  Although  the 
process  of  preparing  hemp  is  primitive  and  slow, 
the  green  stalk  being  stripped  by  an  iron  comb, 
the  laboring  man  can  prepare  enough  in  one  day 
to  supply  his  family  with  "sow  sow"  for  an  en- 
tire week.  If  he  would  work  with  any  regularity, 
especially  in  the  wild  hemp-fields,  he  would  soon 
be  "independent,"  and  could  buy  the  hemp  from 
others,  which  could  be  sold  at  a  profit  to  the  oc- 
casional hemp-boats  that  come  into  port.  The 
only  capital  required  is  one  or  two  bull-carts  and 
carabaos,  a  storehouse,  and  sufficient  rice  or 
money  to  secure  his  first  invoice  of  hemp.  The 


176  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

men  who  carry  it  in  from  the  mountains,  either 
on  their  own  backs  or  on  carabaos,  sell  it  for  cash 
or  its  equivalent  in  rice  at  the  first  store. 

.On  Saturdays,  the  boys  go  to  the  mountains 
to  buy  eggs.  Their  first  stop  is  the  hacienda  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  town — a  large,  cool  nipa 
house,  with  broad  verandas,  situated  in  a  grove 
of  palms.  Around  the  veranda  are  the  nests  of 
woven  baskets  where  the  chickens  are  encouraged 
to  lay  eggs.  Sucking  a  juicy  mango,  they  proceed 
upon  their  journey  through  a  field  of  sugar-cane. 
They  stop  perhaps  at  the  rude  mill  where  the 
brown  sugar  is  prepared  and  molded  in  the  shells 
of  cocoanuts.  They  quench  their  thirst  here  with 
a  stick  of  sugar-cane,  and,  peeling  the  sweet  stalk 
with  their  teeth,  they  disappear  beyond  the  hill. 
Now  they  have  reached  a  wonderful  country, 
where  the  monkeys  and  the  parrots  chatter  in  the 
trees.  They  can  set  traps  for  little  parrots  with  a 
net  of  fine  thread  fastened  to  the  branches.  Only 
a  little  further  on  is  a  small  mountain  barrio> 
where  naked,  lazy  men  lie  in  the  sun  all  day,  and 
the  women  weave  bright-colored  blankets  on  their 
looms.  Returning  with  their  handkerchiefs  tied 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  1/7 

full  of  eggs,  the  boys  reach  home  about  sundown. 
The  thought  of  being  late  to  supper  never  worries 
them;  the  Filipino  is  notoriously  unpunctual 
at  meals.  The  boys  will  cook  their  own  rice,  and 
spread  out  the  sleeping-mat  wherever  the  sunset 
finds  them.  One  shelter  is  as  good  as  another, 
and  they  just  as  often  sleep  away  from  home  as 
in  their  own  beds.  Their  parents  never  worry 
about  the  children,  for  they  know  that,  like  Bo- 
peep's  sheep,  they  will  come  back  some  time,  and 
it  does  n't  make  much  difference  when. 

Early  in  April  the  rice-fields  are  flooded  by  the 
irrigation  ditches  that  the  river  or  the  mountain 
streams  have  filled  with  water.  A  plow  made  of 
the  notch  of  a  tree  is  used  to  break  the  soil.  A 
carabao  is  used  for  this  work,  as  it  is  impossible  to 
mire  him  even  in  the  deepest  mud.  The  boys  and 
girls,  together  with  the  men  and  women,  wearing 
enormous  sun-hats — in  the  crown  of  which  there 
is  a  place  for  cigarettes  and  matches — and  with 
bared  legs,  work  in  the  steaming  fields  throughout 
the  planting  season.  As  the  rice  grows  taller,  the 
crows  are  frightened  away  by  strings  of  flags 
manipulated  from  a  station  in  the  center  of  the 
13 


178  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

paddy.  Scarecrows  are  built  whenever  there  are 
any  clothes  to  spare ;  but  as  the  Filipino  even  util- 
izes rags,  the  scarecrow  often  has  to  go  in  shock- 
ing negligee.  After  the  harvest  season,  when  the 
entire  village  reaps  the  rice  with  bolos,  the  dry 
field  is  given  over  to  the  ponies,  and  the  carabaos, 
and  the  white  storks,  who  never  desert  their  burly 
friend,  the  carabao,  but  often  are  seen  perching 
on  his  back.  The  work  of  husking  and  pounding 
the  crop  then  occupies  the  village. 

If  you  should  be  invited  in  to  dinner  by  a  Fili- 
pino family,  you  would  expect  to  eat  boiled  rice 
and  chicken.  They  would  place  a  cuspidor  on  one 
side  of  your  chair  to  catch  the  chicken  bones, 
which  you  would  spit  out  from  your  mouth.  The 
food  would  be  cooked  in  dishes  placed  on  stones 
over  an  open  fire.  The  cook  and  the  muchachos 
never  wash  their  hands.  They  wash  the  dishes 
only  by  pouring  some  cold  water  on  them  and 
letting  them  dry  gradually.  The  cook  will  rinse 
the  glasses  with  his  hand.  How  would  you  like 
to  eat  a  chicken  boiled  with  its  pin-feathers  on,  or 
find  a  colony  of  red  ants  in  your  soup?  The 
poorer  families  seldom  go  through  the  formality 


IN  A  VISCAYAN  HOME.  179 

of  serving  meals.  As  soon  as  the  rice  and  guin- 
imos  are  cooked,  the  children  and  their  parents 
squat  around  the  bowl  and  help  themselves,  hold- 
ing a  lump  of  salt  in  one  hand,  and  using  the 
other  for  a  fork  or  spoon.  The  women  do  what 
little  marketing  needs  to  be  done,  and  though  the 
Filipino  acts  in  most  things  lavishly,  the  women 
can  drive  close  bargains,  and  will  scold  like  ale- 
wives  if  they  find  the  measure  short  even  by  so 
much  as  a  single  guinimo. 

The  guinimo  is  probably  the  smallest  creature 
with  a  vertebra  known  to  the  world  of  science — 
a  small  fish — and  it  strikes  one  as  amusing  when 
the  people  count  them  out  so  jealously.  But  all 
their  marketing  is  done  on  retail  lines.  Potatoes, 
eggs,  and  fruit  sell  for  so  much  apiece.  A  single 
fish  will  be  chopped  up  so  as  to  go  around  among 
the  customers,  while  the  measures  used  in  selling 
rice  and  salt  are  so  small  that  you  can  not  take 
them  seriously.  The  transaction  reminds  you  of 
your  childhood  days  when  you  were  playing  "keep 
store"  with  a  nickel's  worth  of  candy  on  the  iron- 
ing-board. 

At  Easter-time,  or  during  the  celebration  of 


i8o  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

the  "Santa  Cruz,"  an  enterprising  family  will  get 
up  a  singing  bee.  Perhaps  a  wheezy  organ  will 
be  brought  to  light,  and  the  musician  then  offi- 
ciates behind  the  instrument.  His  bare  feet  work 
the  pedals  vigorously,  and  his  body  sways  in 
rhythm  with  the  strains.  As  the  performance  is 
continuous,  arriving  or  departing  guests  do  not 
disturb  the  ceremony.  There  seems  to  be  a  spe- 
cial song  for  this  occasion,  the  words  of  which 
must  be  repeated  over  and  over  as  the  music  falls 
and  rises  in  a  dismal  wail.  Refreshments  of  Hol- 
land gin  and  tuba  keep  the  party  going  until  long 
after  midnight. 

As  you  walk  down  the  long  dusty  street  at 
evening,  you  will  be  half  suffocated  by  the  smoke 
and  the  rank  odor  of  the  burning  cocoanut-husks 
over  which  the  supper  is  being  cooked.  Then  you 
remember  how  the  broiling  beefsteak  used  to 
smell  "back  home,"  and  even  dream  about  grand- 
mother's kitchen  on  a  baking  day.  And  as  you 
pass  by  the  poor  nipa  shacks,  you  hear  the  mur- 
mur of  the  evening  prayer  pronounced  by  those 
within.  It  is  a  prayer  from  those  who  have  but 
little  and  desire  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LEAVES    FROM    A    NOTE-BOOK. 

I. 
SKIM    ORGANIZES   THE    CONSTABULARY. 

THE  soldiers  had  gone,  bag  and  baggage,  dog, 
parrot,  and  monkey,  blanket-roll  and  cook.  I 
stood  by  the  deserted  convent  under  the  lime-tree, 
watching  the  little  transport  disappear  beyond  the 
promontory.  The  house  that  formerly  had  been 
headquarters  seemed  abandoned.  There  was  the 
list  of  calls  still  pasted  on  the  door.  Reveille, 
guard-mount,  mess-call,  taps, — the  village  would 
seem  strange  without  these  bugle-notes.  The 
sturdy  sentry  who  had  paced  his  beat  was  gone. 
When  would  I  ever  see  again  my  old  friend  the 
ex-circus  clown,  and  hear  him  tinkle  the  "potato- 
bug"  and  sing  "Ma  Filipino  Babe?"  Walking 
along  the  lonely  shore,  now  lashed  by  breakers, 
I  looked  out  on  the  blue  wilderness  beyond.  It 
was  with  feelings  such  as  Robinson  Crusoe  must 

181 


i8a  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

have  had  that  I  went  back  then  to  the  empty 
house. 

Ramon,  convinced  that  something  would  break 
loose,  now  that  the  troops  were  gone,  had  left  for 
Cagayan.  His  wife,  Maria,  slept  at  night  with  a 
big  bolo  underneath  her  pillow.  There  was  a 
"bad"  town  only  a  few  miles  away — a  village 
settled  by  Tagalog  convicts,  who  had  been  con- 
spicuous in  the  revolt  a  few  years  previous.  The 
people  feared  these  neighbors,  the  assassins,  and 
they  double-barred  their  doors  at  night.  I  was 
awakened  as  the  clock  struck  twelve  by  un- 
familiar noises, — nothing  but  the  lizard  croaking 
in  the  bonga-tree.  Again,  at  one,  I  started  up. 
It  was  the  rats,  and  from  the  rattling  sound  above 
I  judged  that  the  house-snake  was  pursuing  them. 
At  early  morning  came  the  chorus  of  the  chan- 
ticleers. Through  the  transparent  Japanese  blinds 
I  could  see  the  huge  green  mountains  shouldering 
the  overhanging  clouds.  Ah!  the  mysterious, 
silent  mountains,  with  their  wonderful,  deep 
shadows !  The  work  of  man  seemed  insignificant 
beside  them,  and  Balingasag  the  lonesomest  place 
in  all  the  world. 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  183 

One  morning  the  sharp  whistle  of  the  launch 
aroused  the  town.  Proceeding  to  the  shore,  I  saw 
a  boat  put  out  from  the  Victoria,  sculled  by  a 
native  deck-hand.  As  the  sun  had  not  yet  risen, 
all  the  sea  was  gray,  and  sea  and  sky  blended  into 
one  vast  planetary  sphere.  Two  natives  carrying 
the  ample  form  of  the  constabulary  captain  stag- 
gered through  the  surf.  Behind  them  came  the 
captain's  .life-long  partner  and  lieutenant,  a  slight 
man,  with  cold,  steely  eyes,  dressed  in  gray  crash 
uniform,  with  riding  leggings.  They  had  been 
through  one  campaign  together  as  rough  riders; 
for  the  captain  had  once  been  "sheriff  of  Gallup 
County,"  in  the  great  Southwest. 

The  house  no  longer  seemed  deserted  with  this 
company,  and  as  they  had  brought  supplies  for 
two  months — which  included  bread ! — we  made  an 
early  attack  upon  these  commissaries.  Since  the 
troops  had  left  I  had  been  existing  on  canned  sal- 
mon and  sardines.  Now  there  were  cheese,  guava, 
artichokes,  mushrooms,  ham,  bacon,  blackberry- 
jam,  and  fruits.  The  captain,  natural  detective 
that  he  was,  caught  one  of  the  muchachos  stealing 
a.  bottle  of  cherries,  which  he  had  thrown  out  the 


184  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

window  during  the  unpacking,  with  the  purpose 
of  securing  it  next  day.  On  being  accused, 
he  made  a  vigorous  protest  of  his  innocence,  but 
after  a  few  minutes  he  returned  triumphantly 
with  the  intelligence  that  he  had  "found"  that 
which  was  lost. 

A  heavy  rain  and  the  tail-end  of  a  monsoon 
kept  my  two  guests  prisoners  for  a  week.  The 
presidente  of  the  town  had  issued  a  bandilla  that 
ail  able-bodied  men  were  wanted  to  enlist  in  the 
constabulary.  Accordingly  came  awkward  na- 
tives to  the  house,  where  the  interpreter  examined 
them;  for  all  the  Spanish  that  the  genial  captain 
knew — and  he  had  lived  already  two  years  in  the 
Philippines — was  "bueno,"  "malo,"  "saca  este," 
and  "sabe  that?"  The  candidates  were  measured, 
and,  if  not  found  wanting,  were  turned  over  to  the 
native  tailor  to  be  fitted  with  new  uniforms.  Some 
of  the  applicants  confessed  that  they  had  once 
been  Insurrectos;  but  so  much  the  better, — they 
knew  how  to  fight.  They  said  that  they  were 
not  afraid  of  Moros — though  I  think  that  they 
would  rather  have  encountered  tigers — and  when 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  185 

finally  dressed,  a  few  days  later,  they  appeared 
upon  the  streets  self-conscious,  objects  of  adora- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  all  the  local  belles. 

The  time  came  when  the  mists  dissolved  upon 
the  mountains,  and  the  little  clouds  scudded  along 
overhead  as  though  to  get  in  from  the  rain.  The 
sun  had  struggled  out  for  a  few  minutes,  and  the 
wind  abated.  But  the  sea  had  not  forgotten  re- 
cent injuries,  and  all  night  we  could  hear  the 
booming  of  the  surf.  The  launch,  drowned  in 
a  nebula  of  spray,  dashed  by,  and  sought  an  an- 
chorage in  safer  waters.  So  it  was  decided  that 
we  go  to  Cagayan  in  a  big  banca.  But  it  was  a 
most  unwieldly  craft  to  launch.  We  got  the  arms 
and  'ammunition  safe  aboard,  and  then,  assisted 
by  the  sturdy  corporals  and  miscellaneous  natives, 
we  pushed  out.  A  rushing  comber  swept  the  boat 
and  nearly  swamped  it.  But  we  bore  up  till  about 
a  hundred  yards  from  shore,  when  >  a  gigantic 
breaker  bearing  down  upon  the  banca — which  had 
been  deflected  so  as  to  present  a  boadside — filled 
her  completely,  and  she  went  down  in  the  swirling 
spume.  Up  to  our  necks  in  surf,  we  labored  for 


i86  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

an  hour,  together  with  the  population  of  the  fish- 
ing village,  finally  to  save  the  wretched  boat  and 
most  of  the  constabulary  ordnance. 

But,  alas  for  the  lieutenant !  He  had  lost  one 
of  his  riding-leggings,  and  for  half  a  day  he  paced 
the  shore  in  search  of  it.  He  offered  rewards  to 
any  native  who  should  rescue  it.  Lacking  a  sav- 
ing sense  of  humor,  he  bemoaned  his  fate,  and 
when  he  did  give  up  the  search,  he  discontinued 
it  reluctantly.  And  two  years  afterwards,  when 
I  next  met  him,  he  inquired  if  I  had  seen  his  leg- 
ging washed  up  on  the  beach.  "Some  native  must 
be  sporting  around  in  it,"  he  said.  "It  set  me 
back  five  dollars,  Mex." 


It  was  a  sleepy  day  at  Cagayan.  The  tropical 
river  flowed  in  silence  through  the  jungle  like  a 
serpent.  In  Capitan  A-Bey's  house  opposite,  a 
seiiorita  droned  the  Stepanie  Gavotte  on  the  piano. 
Capitan  A-Bey's  pigs  rooted  industriously  in  the 
compound.  The  teacher  who  had  hiked  in  from 
El  Salvador,  unconscious  that  his  canvas  leggings 
were  transposed,  was  engaged  in  a  deep  game  of 
solitaire. 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  187 

Upon  the  settee  in  the  new  constabulary  resi- 
dence, his  long  legs  doubled  up  ridiculously,  still 
in  khaki  breeches  and  blue  flannel  army  shirt,  lay 
"Skim,"  with  a  week's  growth  of  beard  upon  his 
face,  sleeping  after  a  night-ride  'over  country 
roads.  After  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  he  would 
again  be  in  the  saddle  for  two  days. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  started  on  constabu- 
lary ponies  for  Balingasag — a  ride  of  thirty  miles 
through  quagmires,  over  swollen  streams  and 
mountain  trails.  Our  ponies  were  the  unaccepted 
present  from  a  quack  who  thus  had  tried  to  buy 
his  way  out  of  the  calaboose,  where  he  was  "doing 
time"  for  trying  to  pass  himself  off  as  a  prophet. 

The  first  few  miles  of  the  journey  led  through 
the  cloistered  archways  of  bamboo.  We  crossed 
the  Kauffman  River,  swimming  the  horses  down 
stream.  Then  the  muddy  roads  began.  The  con- 
stant rains  had  long  ago  reduced  them  to  a  state 
of  paste,  and  although  some  attempt  had  been 
made  to  stiffen  them  with  a  filling  of  dried  cocoa- 
nut-husks,  the  sucking  sound  made  by  the  ponies' 
hoofs  was  but  a  prelude  to  our  final  floundering 
in  the  mud.  There  was  a  narrow  ridge  on  one 


1 88  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

side  near  a  thorny  hedge,  and,  balancing  our- 
selves on  this,  we  made  slow  progress,  meanwhile 
tearing  our  clothes  to  shreds.  Skim  had  consid- 
erable difficulty  with  his  long  legs,  for  he  could 
have  touched  the  ground  on  either  side,  but  he 
could  use  them  to  advantage,  when  it  came  to 
wading  through  the  slosh  ourselves,  and  dragging 
the  tired  ponies  after  us.  At  night  we  "came  to 
anchor"  in  a  village,  where  we  purchased  a  canned 
dinner  in  a  Spanish  store.  The  natives  gathered 
around  us  as  we  sat,  all  splashed  with  mud,  on 
wicker  chairs  in  front  of  the  provincial  almacen. 
Skim  talked  with  the  Spaniard,  alternating  every 
word  with  "estie,"  while  the  Don  kept  swallowing 
his  eyes  and  gesturing  appropriately.  Skim  was 
convinced  that  his  Castilian  was  fine  art. 

We  slept  in  a  deserted  schoolhonse,  lizards  and 
mosquitoes  being  our  bed-fellows.  Skim,  the 
rough  cowboy  that  he  was,  pillowed  his  head  upon 
the  horse's  flank,  and  kept  his  boots  on.  At  the 
break  of  day,  restless  as  ever,  he  was  off  again. 
Crossing  the  Jimenez  River  in  a  native  ferry  while 
the  horses  swam,  we  passed  through  tiny  villages 
that  had  not  seen  a  white  man  for  a  year.  Our 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  189 

journey  now  lay  through  the  woods,  and  Skim, 
dismounting,  stalked  along  the  narrow  trail  as 
though  he  had  been  shod  in  seven-league  boots. 
I  heard  a  pistol  shot  ring  out,  and,  coming  up, 
found  Skim  in  mortal  combat  with  an  ape.  Then 
one  more  plunge  into  a  river,  and  another  stream 
spanned  by  a  bamboo  pole,  which  we  negotiated 
like  funambulists,  dragging  the  steeds  below  us 
by  their  halters, — then  Balingasag. 

In  town  the  big  vaqucro  was  a  schoolboy  on  a 
holiday.  He  was  a  perfect  panther  for  prowl- 
ing around  the  streets  at  night,  and  in  the  market- 
place, .  where  we  now  missed  the  scattering  of 
khaki,  he  became  acquainted  with  the  natives,  and 
drank  tuba  with  them.  He  came  back  with  re- 
ports about  the  resources  of  the  town.  There  was 
an  Indian  merchant  stranded  at  Ramon's,  who 
had  a  lot  of  watches  for  sale  cheap.  He  purchased 
some  lace  curtains  at  the  Chino  store,  and  yellow 
pina  cloth  for  a  mosquito  bar,  and  with  this  stuff 
he  had  transformed  his  bed  into  a  perfect  bower. 
It  was  almost  a  contradiction  that  this  wild  fel- 
low, who  was  more  accustomed  to  his  boots  and 
spurs  at  night  than  to  pajamas,  should  have 


igo          THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

taken  so  much  pains  to  make  his  sleeping-quarters 
dainty.  Streamers  of  baby-ribbon  fell  in  graceful 
lines  about  the  curtains,  while  the  gauze  mosquito- 
bar  was  decorated  with  the  medals  he  had  won 
for  bravery. 

A  photograph  of  his  divorced  wife  occu- 
pied the  place  of  honor  near  the  looking-glass. 
In  reminiscent  moods  Skim  used  to  tell  how 
Chita,  of  old  Mexico,  had  left  him  after  stab- 
bing him  three  times  with  the  jeweled  knife 
that  he  had  given  her.  "I  did  n't  interfere  with 
her,"  he  said,  "but  told  her,  when  she  pricked  me 
with  the  little  knife,  it  was  my  heart  that  she 
was  jabbing  at."  Skim  also  told  me  of  his  expedi- 
tion into  "Dead  Man's  Gulch,"  "Death  Valley," 
and  the  suddenly-abandoned  mining-camps  among 
the  hills  of  California.  And  he  had  met  the 
daughter  of  a  millionaire  in  Frisco,  and  had  seen 
her  home.  "And  when  I  saw  the  big  shack  loom- 
ing up  there  in  the  woods,"  he  said,  "I  thought 
sure  that  I  'd  struck  the  wrong  farmhouse." 

Skim  rented  a  small  place  surrounded  by  a 
hedge  of  bonga  palms,  and  here  he  entertained 
the  village  royally.  He  was  a  favorite  among  the 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  191 

girls,  and  lavished  gifts  upon  them,  mostly  the 
latest  illustrated  magazines  that  belonged  to  me. 
He  ruled  his  awkward  soldiers  with  an  iron  hand, 
and  they  were  more  afraid  of  him  that  of  the  Evil 
One.  Of  course,  they  could  not  understand  his 
Spanish,  and  would  often  answer,  "Si,  senor," 
when  they  had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  the  or- 
ders were.  Then  they  would  come  to  grief  for 
disobedience,  or  receive  Skim's  favorite  repri- 
mand of  "Blooming  idiot!  No  sabe  your  own 
language?"  When  his  cook  displeased  him,  he 
(the  cook)  would  generaly  come  bumping  down 
the  stairs.  The  voice  of  Skim  was  as  the  roaring 
lion  in  a  storm.  Desertions  were  many  in  those 
strenuous  days ;  for  the  constabulary  guards  were 
not  the  heroes  of  the  hour. 

Always  insisting  on  strict  discipline,  Skim,  on 
the  day  we  made  our  trial  hike,  marshaled  his 
forces  in  a  rigid  line,  and,  after  roll-call,  marched 
them  off  in  order  to  the  hills.  The  soldiers  took 
about  three  steps  to  his  one,  and,  trying  to  keep  up 
with  him  through  the  dense  hemp-fields,  they 
broke  ranks  and  ran.  We  followed  a  mountain 
stream  to  its  headwaters,  scrambling  over  bowl- 


192  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ders,  wading  waist-deep  in  the  ice-cold  stream, 
and  by  the  time  we  broke  the  underbrush  and 
pushed  up"  hill,  big  Skim  had  literally  hiked  the 
soldiers  off  their  feet.  They  were  unspeakably 
relieved  when  we  sat  down  at  noon  in  the  cool 
shade,  upon  the  brink  of  a  deep,  crystal  pool,  and 
ate  our  luncheon.  Skim,  insisting  that  the  canned 
quail — which  retained  its  gamy  flavor — was  be- 
yond redemption,  turned  it  over  to  the  soldiers 
to  their  great  delight. 

In  spite  of  his  severity,  Skim  had  a  soft  heart, 
and  when  all  dressed  in  white  and  gold,  he  would 
go  up  to  visit  Senor  Roa  and  his  daughters ;  while 
the  girls  would  play  duets  on  the  piano,  Skim, 
with  a  little  chocolate  baby  under  either  arm, 
would  sing  in  an  insinuating  voice  one  of  his  good 
old  cowboy  songs,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  not  in  tune  with  his  accompaniment.  He 
always  appeared  on  Sundays  cleanly  shaven  and 
immaculate  in  white,  and  when  the  girls  went  by 
his  house  to  church,  their  dusky  arms  glowing 
among  the  gauze,  appealed  to  him  and  made  him 
sad. 

No  one  could  ever  contradict  Skim,  though 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  193 

he  could  n't  even  write  his  own  name  legibly. 
His  monthly  reports  were  actually  works  of  art. 
"Seenyor  Inspekter  of  constabulery,"  he  would 
write,  "i  hav  the  honner  to  indite  the  following  re- 
port, i  hav  bin  having  trubel  with  the  moros.  They 
was  too  boats  of  them  and  they  had  a  canon  in 
the  bow.  i  faired  three  shots  and  too  of  them 
fell  down  but  they  al  paddeled  aeway  so  fast  i 
coodnt  catch  them."  And  again :  "On  wensday 
the  first  instant  i  went  on  a  hike  of  seven  miles, 
i  captured  three  ladrones  four  bolos,  one  old  gun 
and  too  durks."  Then  after  practicing  his  signa- 
ture for  half  an  hour  on  margins  of  books  or  any 
kind  of  paper  he  could  find,  he  used  to  sign  his 
document,  with  a  tremendous  flourish. 

I  rather  miss  the  rock  thrown  at  my  blinds 
at  4  o'clock  A.  M.  A  little  catlike  sergeant, 
a  mestizo,  is  in  charge  of  the  constabulary,  and 
the  men  are  glad.  No  longer  does  the  huge  six- 
footer,  with  his  army  Colt's,  stalk  through  the  vil- 
lage streets.  The  other  day  I  got  a  note  from 
Skim :  "i  dont  think  i  ain't  never  going  to  come 
back  there  eny  moar,"  he  wrote  above  the  most 
14 


194  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

successful  signature  that  I  had  ever  seen.  A  few 
months  later  Skim  was  badly  crippled  in  a  fight 
with  robbers.  He  was  sent  to  Manila  to  the  civil 
hospital.  On  his  discharge  he  was  promoted,  and 
he  now  wears  three  bars  on  his  shoulder-straps. 
He  has  been  shot  three  times  since  then,  and  he 
has  written,  "If  i  dont  get  kilt  no  more,  i  dont 
think  that  i  wont  come  back." 

To-day  the  constabulary  is  well  organized. 
They  have  distinguished  themselves  time  and 
again  in  battle-line.  They  have  put  down  the  lin- 
gering sparks  of  the  rebellion.  They  look  smart 
in  their  brand-new  uniforms  and  russet  boots.  But 
it  was  only  a  year  or  two  ago  that  Skim  had 
crowded  their  uncivilized  feet  into  the  clumsy 
army  shoe,  and  knocked  them  around  like  pup- 
pets in  a  Noah's  ark.  Skim,  if  you  ever  get  hold 
of  these  few  pages  written  in  your  honor,  here  's 
my  compliments  and  my  best  wishes  for  another 
bar  upon  your  shoulder-straps,  and — yes,  here  's 
hoping  that  you  "won't  get  killed  no  more." 


FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  195 

II. 

LAST  DAYS  AT  OROQUIETA. 

I  HAD  been  visiting  the  teachers  at  El  Salva- 
dor, who  occupied  a  Spanish  convent,  with  a 
broad  veranda  looking  out  upon  the  blue  sea  and 
a  grove  of  palms.  It  was  a  country  of  bare  hills, 
which  reminded  one  somewhat  of  Colorado.  Nipa 
jungles  bristled  at  the  mouths  of  rivers,  and  the 
valleys  were  verdant  with  dense  mango  copses. 
We  made  our  first  stop  on  the  way  from  Cagayan 
on  Sunday  morning  at  a  village  situated  in  a 
prairie,  where  a  drove  of  native  ponies  had  been 
tethered  near  the  nipa  church.  The  roads  were 
alive  with  people  who  had  been  attending  services 
or  who  were  on  the  way  to  the  next  cock-fight. 
Falling  in  with  a  loquacious  native,  who  supplied 
us  writh  a  store  of  mangoes,  we  rode  on,  and 
reached  Tag-nipa  or  El  Salvador  late  in  the  after- 
noon. 

One  of  the  teachers,  "Teddy,"  might  have 
actually  stepped  from  out  the  pages  of  Kate 
Greenaway.  He  had  a  large,  broad  forehead,  and 


196  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

a  long,  straight  nose.  He  conducted  a  school  of 
miserable  little  girls,  and  in  the  evening,  like  a 
village  preacher,  he  would  make  his  pastoral  calls 
with  a  "Hello,  girlie!"  for  each  child  he  met. 
When  he  was  pleased  at  anything,  he  used  to  clap 
his  hands,  exclaiming,  "Goodie!"  "Teddy"  en- 
vied me  "my  baccalaureate  enthusiasm,"  and,  en- 
couraged evidently  by  this  quality,  he  would  read 
Chaucer  in  a  sing-song  voice,  or,  when  this  recre- 
ation failed,  would  make  up  limericks  to  a  guitar 
accompaniment.  His  partner  was  the  one  who 
wore  the  transposed  leggings,  and  who  walked  as 
though  continually  following  a  plow. 

Leaving  for  Oroquieta,  in  a  Moro  sailboat 
stocked  with  Chinese  pigs  and  commissaries  that 
belonged  to  one  called  "Jac-cook"  by  the  natives, 
or  "The  Great  White  Father" — a  New  Zealander 
who  could  have  posed  as  an  Apollo  or  a  Hercules 
— the  sailors  whistled  for  wind,  and  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  it.  The  moon  rose  early  over 
the  dark  waters,  and  the  boat,  behaving  ad- 
mirably, rode  the  huge  waves  like  a  cockle.  We 
had  nearly  gone  to  pieces  on  a  coral  reef  that  night 
if  "Jac-cook,"  suddenly  aroused  by  the  unusual 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  197 

sound  of  breakers,  had  not  lowered  sail  in  time 
to  save  the  ship  from  running  on  the  sharp  rock 
half  a  mile  from  land.  The  sailors,  perfectly  in- 
competent, and  panic-stricken  at  the  course  the 
boat  was  taking,  blundered  frightfully  as  the  New 
Zealander  assumed  command. 

No  doubt  the  best  mess  in  the  town  at  that 
time  was  the  one  conducted  by  the  members  of  the 
hospital  detachment.  "Shorty,"  who  did  the  cook- 
ing, was  a  local  druggist  in  his  way;  that  is,  he 
sold  the  natives  talcum  powder,  which  they  bought 
at  quinine  rates.  The  acting  steward,  whom  all 
the  Filipinos  called  "Francisco,"  though  his  name 
was  Louis,  was  a  butcher,  and  a  doctor  too. 
Catching  the  Spaniard's  goat  out  late  at  night, 
he  knocked  it  in  the  head.  The  carcass  was  then 
taken  into  the  dissecting-room,  where  it  was 
skinned  and  dressed  for  the  fresh-meat  supply. 
He  had  acquired  a  local  reputation  as  a  medico,  to 
the  disgust  of  the  real  army  doctor,  who,  for  a 
long  time,  could  not  imagine  why  his  medicines 
had  disappeared  so  fast.  Then  there  was  "Red," 
who  had  the  art  of  laziness  down  fine,  and  who 
could  usually  be  found  playing  monte  with  the 


198  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

natives.  With  the  money  he  had  won  at  monte 
games  and  chicken-fights,  he  intended  to  set  up 
a  drugstore  in  America. 

In  a  downpour  of  rain  I  left  one  morning  for 
Aloran,  down  the  coast  and  up  the  winding  river. 
Prisoners  furnished  by  the  presidente  manned  the 
banca.  They  were  guarded  by  a  barefooted  mu- 
nicipal policeman,  who,  on  falling  presently  to 
sleep,  would  probably  have  lost  his  Mauser  over- 
board had  not  one  of  the  convicts  rescued  it  and 
courteously  returned  it  to  him.  It  was  a  wet  and 
lonesome  pull  up  the  Aloran  River,  walled  in  on 
both  sides  by  nipa  jungles,  and  forever  winding 
in  and  out.  After  an  hour  or  so,  while  I  was 
wondering  what  we  were  coming  to,  we  met  a 
raft  poled  down  the  stream  with  "Red"  and  a 
young  Austrian  constabulary  officer  aboard. 

Finding  a  little  teacup  of  a  house,  I  moved  in, 
and,  before  an  interested  throng  of  natives,  started 
to  unpack  my  trunks  and  boxes  with  a  sense  of 
genuine  relief ;  for  I  had  had  four  months  of  trav- 
eling and  living  out  of  steamer-trunks.  But  I  re- 
turned to  Oroquieta  all  in  good  time  for  the  doc- 
tor's birthday  and  the  annual  Oroquieta  ball.  I 


LEAVES  FROM   A  NOTE-BOOK.  199 

found  the  doctor  wandering  about  Aloran  late 
one  afternoon;  for  he  had  been  attending  a  sick 
Chinaman.  We  started  back  together  through 
the  night,  and,  in  the  darkness,  voices  greeted  us, 
or  snarled  a  "Buenas  noches"  at  us  as  we  passed. 
Bridges  that  carabaos  had  fallen  through  were 
crossed  successfully,  and  we  arrived  at  Oroquieta 
during  the  band  concert. 

The  foreign  colony  at  Oroquieta  was  more  in- 
teresting than  the  persona  dramatis  of  the  "Can- 
terbury Tales."  Where  to  begin  I  do  not  know. 
But,  anyway,  there  was  my  old  friend  the  con- 
stabulary captain,  "Foxy  Grandpa,"  as  we  called 
him  then,  because  when  he  was  not  engaged  in 
telling  how  he  had  arrested  somebody  in  Arizona, 
he  was  playing  practical  jokes  or  doing  tricks  with 
cards  and  handkerchiefs.  And  then  there  was 
the  "Arizona  Babe,"  a  blonde  of  the  Southwestern 
type,  affianced  to  the  commissary  sergeant.  The 
wife  of  the  commanding  officer,  a  veritable 
O'Dowd,  and  little  Flora,  daughter  of  O'Dowd, 
who  rode  around  town  in  a  pony  cart,  were  lead- 
ers of  society  for  the  subpost. 

Then    you   could    take   a    stool    in    front    of 


200  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Paradies's  general  store,  and  almost  at  any 
time  engage  the  local  teacher  in  an  argument. 
You  would  expect,  of  course,  that  he  would 
wander  from  his  topic  till  you  found  your- 
self discussing  something  entirely  foreign  to  the 
subject,  but  so  long  as  he  was  talking,  everything 
was  satisfactory.  There  were  the  two  Greek 
traders  who  had  "poisoned  the  wells"  out  Lobuc 
way, — so  people  said.  And  I  must  not  forget 
"Jac-cook,"  whose  grandfather,  according  to  his 
own  report,  had  been  a  cannibal,  a  king  of  canni- 
bals, and  eaten  a  roast  baby  every  morning  for 
his  breakfast.  Jack  was  a  soldier  of  fortune  if 
there  ever  *was  one.  He  could  give  you  a  recipe 
for  making  poi  from  ripe  bananas  and  the  milk 
of  cocoanuts,  or  for  distilling  whisky  from  fer- 
mented oranges, — both  of  which  formulas  I  have 
unfortunately  lost.  He  recommended  an  exclu- 
sive diet  of  raw  fish,  and  in  his  youth  he  had  had 
many  a  hard  battle  with  the  shark  and  octopus. 
His  one  regret  was  that  there  were  no  sharks  in 
the  Oroquieta  Bay,  that,  diving  under,  he  could 
rip  with  a  sharp  knife.  "To  catch  the  devil-fish," 
he  used  to  say,  "you  whirl  them  rapidly  around 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  201 

your  arm  until  they  get  all  tangled  up  and  supine- 
like."  And  once,  like  Ursus,  in  "Quo  Vadis," 
he  had  taken  a  young  bull  by  the  horns  and  bro- 
ken its  neck. 

All  members  of  good  standing  in  the  colony 
received  their  invitations  to  the  birthday  party. 
Old  Vivan,  the  ex-horse-doctor  of  the  Insurrectos, 
went  out  early  in  the  morning  to  cut  palms.  The 
floor  was  waxed  and  the  walls  banked  with  green. 
The  first  to  arrive  was  "Fresno  Bill,"  the  Cotto- 
bato  trader,  in  a  borrowed  white  suit  and  a  pair  of 
soiled  shoes.  Then  came  the  bronzed  Norwegian 
captain  of  the  Delapaon,  hearty  and  hale  from 
twenty  years  of  deep-sea  sailing  from  the  Java 
coast  to  Heligoland.  Came  Paradies,  the  little 
German  trader,  in  his  finest  blacks,  and  chose  a 
seat  off  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Then  "Foxy 
Grandpa"  and  the  "Arizona  Babe"  arrived,  and 
the  old  maid  from  Zamboanga,  who,  when  ex- 
pression failed  her,  would  usurp  the  conversation 
with  a  "blab,  blab,  blab!"  And  as  the  serpent 
made  for  old  Laocoon,  so  she  now  made  for 
"Fresno  Bill." 

Half  an  hour  more  and  the  party  was  in  full 


202  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

swing.  Native  musicians,  stationed  on  the  land- 
ing, furnished  the  music,  and  Vivan,  the  Filipino 
Chesterfield,  with  sweeping  bo\vs  to  every  one, 
was  serving  the  refreshments.  Padre  Pastor,  in 
his  black  gown,  with  his  face  all  wreathed  in 
smiles,  was  trying  to  explain  to  the  schoolteacher's 
wife  that  "stars  were  the  forget-me-nots  of 
heaven."  The  young  commissary  sergeant  had 
secured  an  alcove  for  the  "Arizona  babe,"  and 
"Foxy  grandpa,"  taking  a  nip  of  something  when 
his  good  wife's  back  \vas  turned,  was  telling 
his  best  anecdote  of  the  southwest,  "Ichabod 
Crane,"  the  big-boned  Kansan — who  had  got  the 
better  of  us  all  that  afternoon  in  argument — 
swinging  his  arms,  and  with  his  head  thrown 
back,  was  trying  to  herd  the  people  into  an  old- 
fashioned  reel.  Grabbing  the  little  daughter  of 
the  regiment  together  with  the  French  constabu- 
lary officer — they  loved  each  other  like  two  cats 
— he  shouted,  "Salamander,  there !  Why  do  n't 
you  salamander?"  Entering  into  the  fun  more 
than  the  rest,  the  genial  army  doctor  "kept  the 
ball  a-rolling." 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  203 

For  the  doctor  was  a  southerner,  as  many  of 
the  army  people  are.  In  his  dual  function  of  phy- 
sician-soldier, he  could  boast  that  he  had  killed 
more  men,  had  more  deaths  to  his  credit,  than  his 
fellow  officers.  He  was  undoubtedly  the  best 
leech  in  the  world.  When  off  duty  he  assumed 
a  Japanese  kimona,  which  became  him  like  the 
robes  of  Nero.  Placing  his  sandaled  feet  upon 
the  window-sill,  he  used  to  read  the  Army  and 
Navy  Journal  by  the  hour.  Although  he  had  a 
taste  for  other  literature,  .his  studies  were  con- 
siderably hampered  by  a  tendency  to  fall  asleep 
after  the  first  few  paragraphs.  He  spent  about 
four  weeks  on  "Majorie  Daw."  When  he  was 
happy — and  he  generally  was  happy — he  would 
sing  that  favorite  song  of  his,  "O,  Ca'line."  It 
went: 

"  O,  Ca'line !  O,  Ca'line ! 
Can't  you  dance  da  pea-vine? 
O,  my  Jemima,  O-hi-o." 

But  he  could  never  explain  satisfactorily  what  the 
"pea-vine"  was.  His  "Ring  around  and  shake  a 
leg,  ma  lady,"  was  a  triumph  in  the  lyric  line. 


204  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

We  used  to  walk  to  Lobuc  every  afternoon 
to  purchase  eggs.  The  doctor's  "Duna  ba  icao 
itlong  dinhi?"  always  amused  the  natives,  who, 
when  they  had  any  eggs,  took  pleasure  in  produc- 
ing them.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  taught  him 
to  say  "itlog"  (egg)  instead  of  "eclogue,"  which 
he  had  been  using  heretofore.  He  made  one  er- 
ror, though,  which  never  could  be  rectified, — he 
always  called  a  Chinaman  a  "hen  chick,"  much 
to  the  disgust  of  the  offended  Oriental,  whose 
denomination  was  expressed  in  the  Viscayan  by 

the  word  "inchic." 

• 

I  pause  before  attempting  a  description  of  the 
Oroquieta  ball,  and,  like  the  poets,'  pray  to  some 
kind  muse  to  guide  my  pen.  To-night  I  feel  again 
the  same  thrill  that  I  felt  the  night  of  the  grand 
Oroquieta  ball.  The  memories  of  Oroquieta 
music  seem  as  though  they  might  express  them- 
selves in  words: 

"  The  stars  so  brightly  shine, 
But  ah,  those  stars  of  thine ! 

Are  none  like  yours,  Bonita, 
Beyond  the  ocean  brine." 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.          205 

And  then  I  seem  to  see  the  big  captain — "Foxy 
grandpa" — beating  the  bass  drum  like  that  ex- 
traordinary man  that  Mark  Twain  tells  about, 
"who  had  n't  a  tooth  in  his  whole  head."  I  can 
remember  how  Don  Julian,  the  crusty  Spaniard, 
animated  with  the  spirit  of  old  Capulet,  stood  on 
the  chair  and  shouted,  "Viva  los  Americanos!" — 
and  the  palm-grove,  like  a  room  of  many  pillars, 
lighted  by  Chinese  lanterns. 

It  was -a  time  of  magic  moonlight,  when  the 
sea  broke  on  the  sands  in  phosphorescent  lines  in 
front  of  the  kiosko.  Far  out  on  the  horizon  lights 
of  fishing-boats  would  glimmer,  and  the  dusky 
shores  of  Siquijor  or  the  volcanic  isle  of  Cama- 
guin  loomed  in  the  distance.  Here  there  were  lit- 
tle cities  as  completely  isolated  though  they  were 
parts  of  another  planet,  where  the  "other"  people 
worked  and  played,  and  promenaded  to  the  strum- 
naing  of  guitars.  And  in  the  background  rose  the 
triple  range  of  mountains,  cold,  mysterious,  and 
blue  in  the  transfiguring  moonlight. 

The  little  army  girl,  like  some  fair  goddess 
of  the  night,  monopolized  the  masculine  attention 


2o6  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

at  the  ball.  When  she  appeared  upon  the  floor, 
all  others,  as  by  mutual  consent,  retired,  and  left 
the  field  to  her  alone.  The  "Pearls  of  Lobuc," 
who  refused  to  come  until  a  carriage  was  sent 
after  them,  appeared  in  delicate  gauze  dresses, 
creamy  stockings,  and  white  slippers.  And  "The 
Princess  of  the  Philippines,"  Diega,  with  her 
saucy  pompadour,  forgot  that  it  was  time  to  drop 
your  hand  at  the  conclusion  of  the  dance.  Our 
noble  Ichabod  was  there  in  a  tight-fitting  suit  of 
blacks  and  narrow  trousers,  fervently  discussing 
with  the  French  constabulary  man  whether  a  frock 
was  a  Prince  Albert.  Paradies  capered  mincingly 
to  the  quick  music  of  the  walz,  and  the  old  maid, 
unable  to  restrain  herself,  kept  begging  the  doc- 
tor— who  did  not  know  how  to  dance — only  to  try 
a  two-step  with  her,  please.  And  the  poor  doctor, 
in  his  agony,  had  sweated  out  another  clean  white 
uniform.  I  had  almost  forgotten  Maraquita  and 
the  zapatillas  with  the  pearl  rosettes.  She  was  a 
little  queen  in  pink-and-white,  and  ere  the  night 
was  over  she  had  given  me  her  "sing  sing"  (ring) 
and  fan,  and  told  me  that  I  could  "ask  papa"  if  I 
wanted  to.  The  next  day  she  was  just  as  pretty 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  207 

in  light-blue  and  green,  and  with  her  hair  un- 
bound. She  poked  her  toes  into  a  pair  of  gold- 
embroidered  sandals,  and  seemed  very  much  em- 
barrassed at  my  presence.  This  was  explained 
when,  later  in  the  day,  her  uncle  asked  me  for 
Miss  Maraquita's  ring. 

Although  the  cook  and  the  muchachos  ate  the 
greater  part  of  the  refreshments,  and  a  heart  or 
two  was  broken  incidentally,  the  Oroquieta  ball 
passed  into  history  as  being  the  most  brilliant 
function  of  its  kind  that  ever  had  been  witnessed 
at  the  post. 

The  winter  passed  with  an  occasional  plunge 
in  the  cool  river,  and  the  surf-bath  every  morning 
before  breakfast.  In  the  evening  we  would  ride  to 
Lobuc,  racing  the  ponies  back  to  town  in  a  white 
cloud  of  dust.  Dinner  was  always  served  for  any 
number,  for  we  frequently  had  visitors, — field 
officers  on  hunting  leave,  commercial  drummers 
from  Cebu,  the  circuit  judge,  the  captain  of  the 
Delapaon.  The  doctor  had  been  threatening  for 
some  time,  now,  to  give  Vivan  a  necessary  whip- 
ping, which  he  did  one  morning  to  that  Chester- 
field's astonishment.  Calling  the  servant  "Usted," 


2o8  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

or  "Your  honor,"  he  applied  the  strap,  and  old 
Vivan  was  shaking  so  with  laughter  that  he 
hardly  felt  the  blows.  But  after  that,  he  tum- 
bled over  himself  with  eagerness  to  fill  our  orders. 
We  had  found  the  coolest  places  in  the  town, — 
the  beach  at  Lobuc,  under  a  wide-spreading  tree, 
and  the  thatched  bridge  where  the  wind  swept 
up  and  down  the  river,  where  the  women  beat 
their  washing  on  the  rounded  stones,  and  carabaos 
dreamed  in  the  shade  of  the  bamboo.  The  cable 
used  to  steady  the  bridge  connected  with  the  shore, 
the  doctor  explained  to  the  old  maid,  was  the 
Manila  cable  over  which  the  messages  were  sent. 
The  clamor  of  bells  one  morning  reminded 
us  that  the  fiesta  week  was  on,  and  old  Vivan 
came  running  in  excitedly  with  the  intelligence 
that  seven  bancas  were  already  anchored  at  the 
river's  mouth,  and  there  were  twenty  more  in 
sight.  Then  he  went  breathlessly  around  the  town 
to  circulate  the  news.  We  rode  about  in  Flora's 
pony  cart,  and  sometimes  went  to  visit  "Foxy 
Grandpa,"  wife,  and  "Arizona  Babe."  "Old 
Tom,"  the  convict  on  parole  for  murder,  waited 
on  the  table,  serving  the  pies  that  Mrs.  G.  had 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  209 

taught  the  cook  to  make,  and  the  canned  peaches 
with  evaporated  cream.  Then,  on  adjourning  to 
the  parlor,  with  its  pillars  and  white  walls,  the 
"Babe"  would  play  "Old  Kentucky  Home"  on  the 
piano  till  the  china  shepherdesses  danced  with 
the  vibrations,  and  the  genial  captain,  growing 
reminiscent,  would  recall  the  story  of  the  man  he 
had  arrested  in  old  Mexico,  or  even  condescend  to 
do  a  new  trick  with  a  handkerchief.  There  was  a 
curious  picture  from  Japan  in  a  gilt  frame  that 
had  the  place  of  honor  over  the  piano.  It  was 
painted  on  a  plaque  of  china,  robin's-egg  blue,  in- 
laid with  bits  of  pearl, — which  represented  boats 
or  something  on  the  Inland  Sea,  while  figures  of 
men  and  small  boys,  enthusiastically  waving  Jap- 
anese flags,  all  cut  out  of  paper,  had  been  pasted 
on.  There  was  an  arched  bridge  over  the  blue 
water,  and  a  sampan  sculled  by  a  boatman  in  a 
brown  kimono.  There  was  a  house  with  paper 
windows  and  a  thatched  roof. 

.  .  .  Chino  Jose  died,  and  was  given  a 
military  funeral.  The  bier  was  covered  with  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  A  company  of  native  scouts 

15 


210  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

was  detailed  as  an  escort,  and  the  local  band  led 
the  procession  to  the  church.  Old  "Ichabod," 
with  a  long  face,  and  in  a  dress  suit,  with  a  pur- 
ple four-in-hand  tie,  followed  among  the  candle- 
bearers  with  long  strides.  The  tapers  burning 
in  the  nave  resembled  a  small  bonfire,  and  ex- 
haustive masses  finally  resulted,  so  I  judge,  in  get- 
ting the  old  heathen's  spirit  out  of  purgatory. 
Good  old  Chino  Jose!  He  had  left  his  widow 
fifty  thousand  "Mex,"  of  which  the  priest  received 
his  share;  also  the  doctor,  for  the  hypodermic  in- 
jections of  the  past  three  months. 

Then  came  the  wedding  of  Bazon,  whose 
bride,  for  her  rebellious  love,  had  recently  been 
driven  from  her  mother's  home.  Bazon,  touched 
by  this  act  of  loyalty,  cut  his  engagement  with  an- 
other girl  and  made  the  preparations  for  the  wed- 
ding feast.  I  met  the  little  Maraquita  at  Bazon's 
reception,  and  conversed  with  her  through  an  in- 
terpreter. "The  seiiorita  says,"  so  the  interpreter 
informed  me,  "she  appreciates  your  conversation 
very  much,  and  thinks  you  play  the  piano  very 
well.  She  has  a  new  piano  in  her  house  that  came 
from  Paris.  In  a  little  while  the  senorita  will  de- 


LEAVES   FROM    A    NOTE-BOOK.  211 

part  for  Spain,  where  she  intends  to  study  in  a 
convent  for  a  year."  Ah,  Maraquita!  She  had 
had  an  Insurrecto  general  for  a  suitor,  and  had 
turned  him  down.  And  she  had  jilted  Joe,  the 
French  constabulary  officer,  and  had  rejected  a 
neighboring  merchant's  offer  for  her  hand  of  fifty 
carabaos.  I  have  to-day  a  small  reminder  of  her 
dainty  needlework — a  family  of  Viscayan  dolls 
which  she  had  dressed  according  to  the  native 
mode. 

One  day  the  undertaker's  boat  dropped  in 
with  a  detachment  of  the  burial  corps  aboard.  The 
bodies  of  the  soldiers  that  had  slept  for  so  long 
in  the  convent  garden  were  removed,  and  taken 
in  brass  caskets  back  across  the  sea. 

We  started  out  one  morning  on  constabulary 
ponies,  brilliantly  caparisoned  in  scarlet  blankets 
and  new  saddles.  "Ichabod,"  the  Kansas  maestro, 
had  proposed  to  guide  us  to  Misamis  over  the 
mountain  trail.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before 
one  spoke  of  trails  in  the  past  tense.  The  last  place 
that  was  on  the  map — a  town  of  questionable  loy- 
alty, that  we  had  gladly  left  late  in  the  afternoon 
— now  seemed,  as  we  remembered  it,  in  contrast 


2i2  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

with  the  wilderness,  a  small  metropolis.  The 
Kansan  still  insisted  that  he  was  not  lost.  "Do 
you  know  where  we  are?"  I  asked.  "Wa-al,"  he 
replied,  "those  mountains  ought  to  be  'way  over 
on  the  other  side  of  us,  and  the  flat  side  of  the 
moon  ought  to  be  turned  the  other  way."  We 
wandered  for  ten  hours  through  prairies  of  tall 
buffalo-grass,  at  last  discovering  a  trail  that  led 
down  to  the  sea.  The  ponies  were  as  stiff  as 
though  they  had  been  made  of  wood  instead  of 
flesh  and  blood. 

We  had  Thanksgiving  dinner  at  the  doctor's. 
Old  Tom  did  the  cooking,  and  Vivan,  all  smiles, 
waited  upon  the  guests.  Stuffed  chicken  and 
roast  sucking  pig,  and  a  young  kid  that  the 
muchachos  had  tortured  to  death  that  morning, 
sawing  its  throat  with  a  dull  knife,  were  the  main 
courses.  Padre  Pastor,  who  had  held  a  special 
mass  that  morning  for  Americans,  "returned 
thanks,"  rolling  his  eyes,  and  saying  something 
about  the  flowers  not  being  plentiful  or  fragrant, 
but  the  stars,  exceptional  in  brilliance,  compen- 
sating for  the  floral  scantiness.  The  doctor  sang 
"O,  Ca'line,"  and  the  captain  did  tricks  with  the 


LEAVES  EROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  213 

napkins.     Everybody  voted  this  Thanksgiving  a 
success. 

The  weary  days  that  followed  at  Aloran  were 
relieved  late  in  December  by  a  visit  from  the  doc- 
tor, and  a  new  constabulary  officer  named  John- 
son,* who  had  ridden  out  on  muddy  roads,  through 
swimming  rice-pads,  across  swollen  rivers.  When 
the  store  of  commissaries  was  exhausted,  we  rode 
back,  and  Johnson  came  to  grief  by  falling 
through  an  open  bridge  into  a  rice-swamp,  so  that 
all  that  we  could  see  of  him  was  a  square  inch  of 
his  poor  horse's  nose.  We  pulled  him  out,  and 
named  the  place  "Johnson's  Despair." 


•Johnson,  the  runaway  constabulary  officer,  was  killed  Oc- 
tober last  by  the  crew  of  the  native  boat  which  he  had  captured 
after  the  Steamship  "Victoria,"  which  he  had  seized,  had 
grounded  off  the  coast  of  Negros.  Pour  of  the  crew  were  killed 
during  the  fight.  In  true  brigand  style  he  had  taken  the  boat  at 
the  revolver's  point,  and  headed  for  the  coast  of  Borneo.  He  had 
ten  thousand  dollars  of  government  money,  and  his  intention  was 
to  land  at  various  ports  and  make  the  local  merchants  "stand 
and  deliver."  I  gave  the  following;  interview  to  the  reporter  of 
the  Princeton  (Indiana)  "Clarion-News,"  October  16,  1903: 

"  'Johnson,  the  pirate,'  is  dead,  and  buried  in  the  lonely  isle 
of  Negros.  Many  a  worse  man  occupies  a  better  grave.  The 
worst  that  you  can  say  of  Johnson  is,  that  he  was  young  and  that 
he  liked  to  drink  too  much. 

"I  shall  always  remember  him  in  his  red  shoulder  straps, 
his  khaki  riding  suit  and  leather  leggings.  Before  I  had  ever 
seen  him  I  had  heard  the  old  constabulary  captain  say:  'That 
feller  looks  like  a  born  fighter.  Bet  he  ain't  afraid  of  anything.' 
.  .  .  The  padre  gave  us  a  Christmas  dinner,  and  Johnson  at 


214  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Our  Christmas  Eve  was  an  eventful  one.  The 
transport  Trenton  went  to  pieces  on  our  coral  reef. 
We  were  expecting  company,  and  when  the  boat 
pulled  in,  we  went  down  to  the  beach  to  tell  them 
where  the  landing  was.  "We  thought  that  you 
were  trying  to  tell  us  we  were  on  a  rock,"  the  little 
cavalry  lieutenant,  who  had  been  at  work  all 
night  upon  the  pumps,  said,  when  we  saw  him  in 
the  morning.  It  was  like  a  shipwreck  in  a  comic 
opera,  so  easily  the  vessel  grounded ;  and  at  noon 
the  next  day  we  were  invited  out  on  shipboard  for 
a  farewell  luncheon.  The  boat  was  listed  dan- 


thls  function  took  too  much  of  the  communion  wine.  On  the 
way  back  he  reeled  continually  in  his  saddle,  vomiting  a  stream 
of  red  wine. 

"We  often  used  to  race  our  ponies  into  Oroquleta  neck  and 
neck,  scattering  natives,  chickens,  and  pigs  to  right  and  left. 
The  last  I  saw  of  him  was  as  he  put  out  on  a  stormy  sea  in  a 
frail  Moro  sailboat  bound  for  Cagayan,  which  at  that  time  was 
infested  with  ladrones. 

"Johnson  was  only  a  boy,  but  he  had  been  a  sailor  and  a 
soldier,  and  had  seen  adventures  In  the  Canary  Islands,  In  Cuba, 
and  the  Philippines.  The  boat  that  he  held  up  and  started  off 
to  Borneo  was  one  employed  in  questionable  trade.  She  was  a 
smuggler,  and  had  formerly  been  in  the  service  of  the  'Insurrecto' 
Government.  She  used  to  drop  in  at  a  port  at  night  and  pull  out 
in  the  morning  with  neither  a  bill  of  lading  nor  a  manifest. 

"Johnson  should  not  be  blamed  too  much  for  the  wild  es- 
capade. The  climate  had  undoubtedly  affected  him;  moreover 
the  constabulary  has  no  business  putting  heavy  responsibilities 
upon  young  boys." 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  215 

gerously  to  port,  and,  as  the  waves  rolled  in,  kept 
bumping  heavily  upon  the  coral  floor.  The  hull 
under  the  engines  was  staved  in,  and,  as  the  tide 
increased,  the  vessel  twisted  as  though  flexible. 
Broken  amidships,  finally,  she  twisted  like  some 
tortured  creature  of  the  deep.  The  masts  and 
smokestacks  branched  off  at  divergent  angles,  giv- 
ing the  ship  a  rather  drunken  aspect.  At  high  tide 
the  masts  and  deck-house  were  swept  off ;  the  bow 
went,  and  the  boat  collapsed  and  bent.  By  even- 
ing nothing  was  left  except  the  bowsprit  rocking 
defiantly  among  the  breakers,  a  broken  skeleton, 
the  keel  and  ribs,  and  the  big  boiler  tumbling  and 
squirting  in  the  surf. 

There  were  three  shipwrecked  mariners  to  care 
for, — the  bluff  captain,  one  of  nature's  noblemen, 
who  had  spent  his  life  before  the  mast  and  on  the 
bridge,  and  who  had  been  tossed  upon  many  a 
strange  and  hostile  coast.  He  had  a  deep  scar 
on  his  head,  received  when  he  was  shanghaied 
twenty  years  before.  He  told  strange  stories  of 
barbaric  women  dressed  in  sea-shells;  of  the  Pit- 
cairn  islanders,  who  formerly  wore  clothes  of 


2i6  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

papyrus,  but  now  dressed  in  the  latest  English 
fashion,  trading  the  native  fruits  and  melons  for 
the  merchandise  of  passing  ships. 

Then  there  was  Mac,  the  chief,  a  stunted, 
sandy  little  man,  covered  with  freckles,  and  tat- 
tooed with  various  marine  designs.  He  loved  his 
engine  better  than  himself,  and  in  his  sorrow  at 
its  break-up,  he  was  driven  to  the  bottle,  and  when 
last  seen — after  asking  "ever'  one"  to  take  a 
drink — was  wandering  off,  his  arms  around  two 
Filipino  sailors.  Coming  to  life  a  few  days  later, 
"Mac  ain't  sayin'  much,"  he  said,  "but  Mac,  'e 
knows."  Yielding  to  our  persuasion,  he  wrote 
down  a  song  "what  'e  'ad  learned  once  at  a  sail- 
ors' boardin'  'ouse  in  Frisco."  It  was  called  "The 
Lodger,"  and  he  rendered  it  thus,  in  a  deep-sea 
voice : 

"  The  other  night  I  chanced  to  meet  a  charmer  of  a  girl, 

An',  nothin'  else  to  do,  I  saw  'er  'otne ; 
We  'ad  a  little  bottle  of  the  very  finest  brand, 

An'  drank  each  other's  'ealth  in  crystal  foam. 
I  lent  the  dear  a  sover'ign  ;    she  thanked  me  for  the  same 

An'  laid  'er  golden  'ead  upon  me  breast ; 
But  soon   I  finds  myself  thrown  out  the  passage  like  a 

shot, — 
A  six-foot  man  confronts  me,  an'  'e  says: 

CHORUS — 
I  'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but  the  lodger  'as  come,"  etc. 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.         217 

The  feature  of  the  song,  however,  was  Mac's 
leer,  which,  in  a  public  hall,  would  have  brought 
down  the  house,  and  which  I  feel  unable  to  de- 
scribe. 

The  mate,  aroused  by  the  example  of  the  chief, 
rendered  a  "Tops'l  halliard  shanty,"  "Blow,  Bul- 
lies, Blow."  It  was  almost  as  though  a  character 
had  stepped  from  Pinafore,  when  the  athletic,  gal- 
lant little  mate,  giving  a  hitch  to  his  trousers,  thus 
began:  "Strike  up  a  light  there,  Bullies;  who's 
the  last  man  sober?" 

SONG. 

"  O,  a  Yankee  ship  came  down  the  river — 

Blow,  Bullies,  blow  ! 
Her  sails  were  silk  and  her  yards  were  silver — 

Blow,  my  Bully  boys,  blow ! 
Now,  who  do  you  think  was  the  cap'n  of  'er  ? 

Blow,  Bullies,  blow! 
Old  Black  Ben,  the  down-east  bucko — 

Blow,  my  Bully  boys,  blow!" 

"'Ere  is  a  shanty  what  the  packeteers  sings 
when,  with  'full  an'  plenty,'  we  are  'omeward 
bound.  It  is  a  'windlass  shanty,'  an'  we  sings 
it  to  the  music  of  the  winch.  The  order  comes 
'hup  anchors,'  and  the  A  one  packeteer  starts  hup : 


218  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

"'We're  hom'ard  bound;  we're  bound  away; 

Good-bye,  fare  y'  well. 
We  're  home'ard  bound ;  we  leave  to-day ; 

Hooray,  my  boys!  we're  home'ard  bound. 
We  're  home'ard  bound  from  Liverpool  town  ; 

Hooray,  my  boys,  hooray ! 
A  bully  ship  and  a  bully  crew ; 

Good-bye,  fare  y'  well. 
A  bucko  mate  an'  a  skipper  too ; 

Hooray,  my  boys,  we're  home'ard  bound!'  " 


For  the  old  maid  this  was  the  time  the  ages 
had  been  waiting  for.  What  anxious  nights  she 
spent  upon  her  pillow  or  before  the  looking-glass ; 
what  former  triumphs  she  reviewed;  and  what 
plans  for  the  conquest  she  had  made,  shall  still 
remain  unwritten  history.  When  she  was  ready 
to  appear,  we  used  to  hear  her  nervous  call,  "Doc- 
tor! Can  I  come  over?"  Poor  old  maid!  She 
could  n't  even  wait  till  she  was  asked.  How  pa- 
tiently she  stirred  the  hot  tomato  soy  the  captain 
made ;  O  yes !  She  could  be  useful  and  domestic. 
How  tenderly  she  leaned  upon  the  arm  of  the 
captain's  chair,  caressing  the  scar  upon  his  head 
"where  he  was  shanghaied !"  Then,  like  Othello, 
he  would  entertain  her  with  his  story  about  the 
ladies  in  the  sea-shell  clothes,  or  of  the  time  when 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  219 

he  had  "weathered  the  Horn"  in  a  "sou'wester." 
She  was  flurried  and  excited  all  the  week.  The 
climax  came  after  the  captain  left  for  Iligan.  The 
old  maid  learned  somehow  that  he  was  going  to 
Manila  on  a  transport  which  would  pass  by  Oro- 
quieta  but  a  few  miles  out.  Sending  a  telegram 
to  the  chief  quartermaster  whom  she  called  a 
"dear,"  she  said  that  if  the  ship  would  stop  to 
let  her  on,  she  could  go  out  to  meet  it  in  a  banca. 
Though  the  schoolmaster  and  his  wife  had  also 
requested  transportation  on  the  same  boat,  the  old 
maid,  evidently  thinking  that  "three  made  a 
crowd,"  wired  to  her  friend  the  quartermaster 
not  to  take  them  on. 

We  met  the  old  maid  almost  in  hysterics  on 
the  road  to  Lobuc.  "O,  for  the  love  of  God !"  she 
cried,  "get  me  a  boat,  and  get  my  trunk  down  to 
the  shore.  I  have  about  ten  minutes  left  to  catch 
that  ship."  It  was  old  Ichabod  who  rowed  her 
out  in  the  canoe — the  old  maid,  with  the  sun  now 
broken  out  behind  the  clouds,  her  striped  parasol, 
and  a  small  steamer  trunk.  It  was  a  mad  race 
for  old  Ichabod,  and  they  were  pretty  well 
drenched  when  the  old  maid  climbed  aboard  the 


220  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

transport,  breathless  but  triumphant.  I  have  since 
learned  that  Dido  won  her  wandering  ^Eneas  in 
Manila,  and  that  the  captain  finally  has  found  his 
"bucko  mate." 

It  was  old  Ichabod's  delight  to  teach  a  class 
of  sorry-looking  senoritas,  with  their  dusty  toes 
stuck  into  carpet  slippers,  and  their  hair  combed 
back  severely  on  their  heads.  The  afternoons  he 
spent  in  visiting  his  flock;  we  could  descry  him 
from  afar,  chin  in  the  air,  arms  swinging,  hiking 
along  with  five-foot  strides.  If  he  could  "doctor 
up"  the  natives  he  was  satisfied.  He  knew  them 
all  by  name  down  to  the  smallest  girl,  and  he  ap- 
plied his  healing  lotions  with  the  greatest  sense 
of  duty,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  regular 
M.  D.  But  Ichabod  was  qualified,  for  he  had  once 
confided  to  me  that  at  one  time  he  had  learned 
the  names  of  all  the  bones  in  the  left  hand ! 

The  colony  showed  signs  of  breaking  up.  The 
native  scouts  had  gone,  leaving  their  weeping 
"hindais"  on  the  shore.  "Major  O'Dowd,"  his 
wife,  and  Flora  had  also  departed  to  a  station  sin 
Americanos  up  in  the  interior.  At  this,  the  doc- 


LEAVES  FROM  A  NOTE-BOOK.  221 

tor,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  broke  into  song, 
after  the  style  and  meter  of  immortal  Omar : 

"  Hiram,  indeed  is  gone ;  his  little  Rose 
Vamosed  to  Lintogoup  with  all  her  clothes ; 

But  still  the  Pearls  are  with  us  down  the  line, 
And  many  a  hindai  to  the  tubig  goes." 

"Tubig,"  he  said,  "did  not  mean  'water.'  It 
was  more  poetical,  expressing  the  idea  of  fountain, 
watering-place,  or  spa." 

It  was  my  last  day  at  Aloran.  In  the  morning 
I  ascended  a  near  elevation,  and  looked  down  upon 
the  sleepy  valley  spread  below.  There  was  the 
river  winding  in  and  out ;  there  was  the  convent, 
like  a  doll-house  in  a  field  of  green.  Vivan  had 
gone  on  with  the  trunks  and  boxes  packed  upon  a 
carabao.  The  ponies  were  waiting  in  the  com- 
pound. Valedictories  were  quickly  said ;  but  there 
was  little  Peter  with  his  silken  cheeks,  the  bright- 
est little  fellow  I  have  ever  known.  It  seemed 
a  shame  to  leave  him  there  in  darkest  Mindanao. 
Turning  the  horses  into  the  Aloran  River  at  the 
ford  we  struck  the  high  road  near  the  barrio  of 
Feliz.  Galloping  on,  past  "Columbine"  bridge, 


222  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

"Skeleton"    bridge,    "Johnson's    Despair,"    and 
Fenis,  we  arrived  at  Oroquieta  in  good  time. 

But  what  a  change  from  the  old  place  as  we 
had  known  it!  Hiram,  indeed  was  gone.  The 
doctor  had  set  out  for  pastures  new.  The  "Ari- 
zona Babe"  and  "Foxy  Grandpa"  had  departed 
for  fresh  fields.  Like  one  who,  falling  asleep  in 
a  theater,  awakes  to  find  the  curtain  down  and  the 
spectators  gone,  so  I  now  looked  about  the  vacant 
town.  The  actors  had  departed,  and  "the  play 
was  played  out." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS  WITH  THE  OFFICERS  AND 
SOLDIERS  OF  THE  PHILIPPINES. 

BUGLE-CALLS,  loud,  strident  bugle-calls,  leap- 
ing in  unison  from  the  brass  throats  of  bugles; 
tawny  soldiers  lining  up  for  guard-mount  before 
the  officer  of  the  day,  as  spick  and  span  as  a  toy 
soldier;  troopers  in  blue  shirts,  with  their  mess- 
kits  in  their  hands,  running  across  the  street  for 
rations;  men  in  khaki  everywhere,  raising  a 
racket  on  pay-day,  fraternizing  with  the  Filipinos 
when  off  duty ;  poker  games  in  the  barracks,  with 
the  army  cot  and  blanket  for  a  table;  taps,  and 
the  measured  tread  of  sentries,  and  anon  a  startled 
challenge,  "Halt!  Who's  there?" — such  were 
the  days  in  Cagayan  in  1901. 

The  blue  sea,  stretching  out  into  the  hazy  dis- 
tance, sparkled  around  the  little  m'/>a-covered  dock 
where  commissary  stores  and  sacks  of  rice  were 
piled.  The  native  women,  squatting  on  the 
223 


224  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ground,  were  selling  mangoes  and  bananas  to  the 
boys.  "Cagayan  Mag,"  who  vended  the  hot  bot- 
tled beer  for  "jawbone,"  digging  her  toes  into  the 
dust,  was  entertaining  the  surrounding  crowd 
with  her  coarse  witticisms.  The  corporal  of  the 
guard,  reclining  in  an  easy  steamer-chair,  under 
his  tent  extension,  was  perusing  the  news  columns 
from  the  States,  by  this  time  three  months  old.  A 
sunburnt  soldier,  with  his  Krag  upon  his  shoulder, 
paced  the  dock,  wearily  doing  the  last  hour  of  his 
guard. 

"Do  you-all  like  hawg-jowl  and  black-eyed 
peas?"  drawled  "Tennessee  Bill,"  shifting  his 
bony  form  to  a  more  comfortable  position  on  the 
rice-sack. 

"Reckon  I  ort  ter ;  I  wuz  bo'n  in  Geo'gy,"  said 
his  comrade,  as  he  rolled  a  rice-straw  paper  ciga- 
rette. 

After  an  interval  of  several  minutes  the  same 
conversation  was  repeated.  Suddenly  a  sharp  toot 
sent  the  echoes  scudding  back  and  forth  among 
the  hills.  A  moment  later  the  small  transport, 
with  the  usual  blur  of  khaki  in  her  bows,  came 
swinging  around  the  promontory. 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  225 

"Pshaw!  I  thought  it  wuz  the  pay  boat 
comin'  "  grumbled  Bill. 

Then,  as  the  Trenton  pulled  up  to  the  dock, 
signs  of  activity  began  to  animate  that  place.  The 
guard,  with  leveled  bayonet,  began  to  shoo  the 
"Gugus"  off  the  landing.  Down  the  hot  road, 
invested  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  an  ambulance  was 
coming,  drawn  by  a  team  of  army  mules  and 
bringing  the  lieutenant  quartermaster  and  his 
sergeants. 

"Why,  hello!"  said  Bill;  "if  here  ain't  little 
Wantz  a-comin'.  Got  his  discharge  an'  gone  mar- 
ried a  babay." 

The  soldiers  crowded  around  the  ex-hospital 
corps  man,  who,  still  in  his  khaki  suit,  was  stand- 
ing on  the  shore  with  a  sad-looking  Filipino  girl 
in  tow.  Her  feet  were  bare  and  dusty,  and  she 
wore  a  turkey-red  skirt  caught  up  on  one  side, 
and  a  gauze  camisa  with  a  pina  yoke,  and  the  stiff, 
flaring  sleeves.  Her  head  was  bare,  and  her  black 
hair  was  combed  uncompromisingly  back  on  her 
head.  Her  worldly  goods  were  done  up  in  a  straw 
mat  and  a  soiled  bandana  handkerchief,  and  were 
deposited  before  her  on  the  ground. 
16 


226  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

"This  is  the  gal,"  said  Wantz ;  "old  Justice  de 
Laguna's  daughter,  and  the  same  what  uster  sell 
beer  to  the  Twenty-eighth  over  at  Tagaloan.  She 
ain't  no  beauty,  but  she  's  a  good  steady  trotter ; 
ain't  you,  Dell?"  The  girl  looked  stupid  and 
embarrassed,  and  did  not  reply. 

A  "rooky,"  who  had  joined  the  company, 
stood  on  the  dock  disconsolately.  His  blanket  roll 
and  locker  had  been  put  off  the  boat.  This  was 
his  first  appearance  in  the  provinces.  He  was  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  a  fish  out  of  water, 
and  a  raw  recruit. 

The  men  were  set  to  work  immediately  land- 
ing the  commissary  stores.  They  stripped  their 
shoes  and  socks  off,  rolled  up  their  trousers  to  the 
knee,  and  waded  through  the  shallow  water,  car- 
rying the  bales  and  boxes  on  their  shoulders  to  the 
shore. 

The  road  up  to  the  town  was  lined  with  nipa 
houses,  shaded  with  banana-trees  and  bonga 
palms.  This  was  the  road  that  was  almost  im- 
passable during  the  rainy  season.  As  the  ambu- 
lance rolled  heavily  along,  scores  of  half-naked 
babies,  shaped  like  peanuts,  shouted  after  you  a 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  227 

"Hello,  baby !"  and  the  pigs,  with  snouts  like  coal- 
scuttles, scattered  on  either  side  the  thoroughfare. 
This  was  the  famous  "Bolo  alley,"  down  which, 
only  a  few  months  before,  the  Insurrecto  army 
had  come  shouting,  "A  la!  a  la!"  firing  as  they 
ran. 

You  passed  the  market-place,  an  open  hall 
filled  with  the  native  stalls,  where  soldiers  loafed 
around,  chatting  with  the  Viscayan  girls — for  a 
freemasonry  exists  between  the  Filipino  and  the 
soldier — dickering  with  one  for  a  few  dhobie 
cigarettes,  sold  "jawbone,"  to  be  paid  for  when 
the  pay-boat  comes. 

The  troops  were  quartered  in  old  Spanish 
buildings,  where  the  sliding  windows  of  the  up- 
per floors  disclosed  the  lanes  of  white  mosquito- 
bar.  Back  in  the  courtyard,  where  the  cook  was 
busily  preparing  mess,  a  mangy  and  round-shoul- 
dered monkey  from  the  bamboo  fence  was  look- 
ing on  approvingly.  The  cook  was  not  in  a  good 
humor.  All  that  the  mess  had  had  for  three 
weeks  was  the  regulation  beans  and  bacon,  with- 
out a  taste  of  fresh  meat  or  fresh  vegetables. 

Things  were  as  bad,  however,  at  the  officers' 


228  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

mess,  where  the  rule  was  that  the  first  complaint 
should  sentence  its  author  to  conduct  the  mess  him- 
self until  relieved  in  a  like  manner.  As  might  be 
imagined,  such  a  system  naturally  discouraged  an 
improvement  of  affairs.  Exasperated,  finally,  be- 
yond his  limit,  Lieutenant  Breck  came  out  with — 
"If  this  is  n't  the  rottenest  apology  of  an  old 
mess" — saving  himself  by  quickly  adding,  "But  I 
like  it;  O,  I  like  it;  nobody  can  tell  how  much  I 
like  this  mess!" 

There  was  an  officer's  club  in  a  frame  building 
near  the  headquarters.  Here,  in  the  afternoon,  the 
clan  would  gather  for  a  round  of  "whisky  poker" 
for  the  drinks.  There  was  a  strapping  young 
Kentuckian  whose  ancestors  had  all  been  army 
men.  "The  profession  of  arms,"  said  he,  "is  the 
noblest  profession  in  the  world.  And  that  is  the 
profession  that  we  follow."  It  was  a  rather  sad 
sight,  though,  a  few  weeks  later,  after  his  wife,  a 
little  Southern  girl,  had  gone  back  to  the  "States," 
to  see  this  giant  soldier  playing  cards  and  drink- 
ing whisky  with  the  teamsters,  bar-keeps,  and 
camp-followers,  threatening  to  shoot  the  man  who 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  229 

tried  to  interfere,  and  finally  being  taken  down  in 
irons  for  a  court-martial. 

The  only  one  of  all  his  friends  who  did  not 
fall  away  from  him  was  one,  a  little,  catlike  cav- 
alry lieutenant,  booted  and  spurred,  and  always 
dressed  in  khaki  riding-breeches,  never  saying 
much,  but  generally  considered  the  most  popular 
young  officer  in  all  the  service.  And  there  was 
one  other  faithful  one,  but  not  an  officer.  The 
"striker,"  who  had  followed  him  in  many  a  hard 
hike,  and  had  learned  to  admire  his  courage  and 
to  consider  him  infallible,  tried  for  the  sake  of  the 
young  Southern  girl,  to  keep  his  master  from  the 
wretched  drink. 

The  post  of  Cagayan  that  winter  was  a  busy 
one.  On  Sunday  mornings  the  stern-visaged  offi- 
cers would  go  the  round  of  all  the  barracks  on  in- 
spection duty.  There  was  still  a  remnant  of  the 
Insurrecto  army  operating  in  the  hills,  and  an  at- 
tack upon  the  town  was  threatened  nightly.  Once 
a  month,  when  pay-day  came  around,  a  reign  of 
terror,  which  began  with  early  afternoon,  lasted 
until  almost  a  company  of  miscellaneous  maraud- 


230  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ers  could  have  been  recruited  from  the  guard- 
house. A  dozen  saloons  and  poker  games  were 
running  the  night  long,  and  in  those  days  little 
money  was  deposited  in  the  paymaster's  bank. 

A  number  of  detachments  had  been  left  in  dif- 
ferent towns  around  the  bay  in  charge  of  second 
lieutenants  or  first  sergeants.  Here,  while  the 
discipline  was  more  relaxed,  the  pandemonium  of 
pay-day  was  avoided.  But  the  two  best  poker- 
players  in  the  company  corraling  all  the  money, 
either  would  proceed  to  narrow  the  financial  dis- 
tribution further,  or  would  shake  hands  and  agree 
to  make  deposits  on  the  next  disbursing-day. 
Some  of  the  men  on  their  discharge  would  have  a 
thousand  dollars,  or  enough  to  set  them  up  in 
business  in  the  States. 

These  "outfits"  differ  greatly  in  their  charac- 
ter. Some  are  composed  of  sociable,  kind-hearted 
fellows,  while  others  may  contain  a  large  percent- 
age of  professional  "bad  men"  and  rowdies.  Each 
company  will  have  its  own  traditions  and  a  repu- 
tation which  is  guarded  jealously.  There  was 
the  "fighting  Twenty-eighth,"  the  regiment  in- 
vincible. The  soldiers  grow  attached  to  their  out- 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  231 

fit.  On  their  discharge,  which  they  have  eagerly 
looked  forward  to,  after  a  day  or  two  of  Frisco, 
when  the  money  has  been  spent  to  the  last  dollar 
of  the  "finals,"  more  than  one  chop-fallen  soldier, 
looking  up  the  first  recruiting  sergeant,  will  "take 
on"  again. 

The  "company  fund"  is  a  great  institu- 
tion, and  an  "outfit"  with  a  good  fund  is  consid- 
ered prosperous.  This  money  goes  for  extras  at 
the  table,  for  baseball  equipments,  or  for  company 
mascots.  The  sergeant-major  usually  has  charge 
of  this  disbursement,  and  the  soldiers,  though  they 
grumble  at  his  orders,  can  not  help  respecting 
him.  The  sergeant-major  has  been  seasoned  in 
the  service.  He  is  a  ripe  old  fellow,  and  a  war- 
rior to  the  core.  The  company  cook  is  also  an 
important  personage.  It  was  the  old  cook  at 
Balingasag — I  think  that  he  had  served  for  twenty 
years — who  fed  me  in  the  convent  courtyard  on 
camotes,  egg-plant,  and  a  chicken  which  he  had 
stolen  from  a  native.  According  to  his  theory,  a 
soldier  was  a  licensed  robber,  and  the  chicken 
should  be  classed  as  forage — not  as  plunder.  He 
was  a  favorite  among  the  officers,  who  used  to 


232  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

get  him  started  on  his  favorite  grievance, — the 
condemnation  by  a  board  of  survey  of  a  certain 
army  mule.  "I  liked  that  mule,"  he  used  to  say. 
"He  was  the  best  mule  that  the  service  ever  had." 

The  nightly  "argument,"  or  "chewing  the 
rag,"  is  a  favorite  pastime  in  an  isolated  camp. 
Sitting  around  upon  the  army  cots  or  chests,  the 
soldiers  will  discuss  some  unimportant  topic  until 
"taps"  sounds. 

I  will  admit  that  "Company  M"  was  a  disrep- 
utable lot.  They  never  dressed  up;  frequently 
they  went  without  their  footgear ;  and  they  drank 
much  tuba  with  the  natives.  They  took  delight 
in  teaching  the  small  boys  profanity,  and  they 
would  shock  the  Filipinos  by  omitting  bathing- 
suits  when  in  the  surf.  They  used  to  frighten  the 
poor  "niggers"  half  to  death  by  trying  to  break 
through  their  houses  on  a  dark  night.  Yet  I  be- 
lieve that  every  Filipino  was  the  soldier's  friend, 
and  I  am  sure  I  noticed  not  a  few  heart-broken 
senoritas  gathered  at  the  shore  when  they  de- 
parted. For  my  own  part,  I  have  always  found 
the  soldier  generous,  respectful,  and  polite. 

There  was  a  great  wag  in  the  company,  who, 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  233 

in  some  former  walk  of  life,  had  figured  as  a  cir- 
cus clown.  He  also  claimed  to  have  been  upon 
the  stage  in  vaudeville.  He  had  enlisted  in  the 
regimental  band,  but,  through  some  change,  had 
come  to  be  bugler  of  M  Company.  He  owned  a 
mandolin,  called  the  "potato  bug" — a  name  sug- 
gested by  the  inlaid  bowl.  He  had  brought  back 
to  life  a  cracked  guitar,  which  he  had  strung  with 
copper  wire  obtained  by  "jawbone"  at  the  Chino 
store.  It  was  an  inspiration  when  he  sang  to  the 
guitar  accompaniment,  "Ma  Filipino  Babe,"  or 
in  a  rich  and  melancholy  voice,  with  the  profes- 
sional innuendo,  "just  to  jolly  the  game  along," 
a  song  entitled  "Little  Rosewood  Casket." 

It  is  a  sorry  company  that  does  n't  number 
in  its  roll  a  poet.  Company  M  had  a  good  poet. 
Local  customs  and  the  local  atmosphere  appealed 
to  him,  and  he  has  thus  recorded  his  impression 
of  the  Philippines : 

"  There  once  was  a  Philippine  hombre  ; 
Ate  guinimos,  rice,  and  legombre  ; 

His  pants  they  were  wide, 

And  his  shirt  hung  outside ; 
But  this,  you  must  know,  is  costombre. 


234  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

He  lived  in  a  nipa  balay 
That  served  as  a  stable  and  sty. 

He  slept  on  a  mat 

With  the  dog  and  the  cat, 
And  the  rest  of  the  family  near  by. 

He  once  owned  a  bueno  manoc, 
With  a  haughty  and  valorous  look, 

Who  lost  him  amain 

And  mil  pesos  tambien, 
And  now  he  plays  montt  for  luck. 

This  poem  was  received  so  favorably  that  the 
following  effort  of  the  realistic  school  escaped : 

"  In  this  land  of  dhobie  dreams, 
Happy,  smiling  Philippines, 

Where  the  bolo  man  is  hiking  all  day  long-- 
Where the  natives  steal  and  lie, 
And  Americanos  die, 

The  soldier  sings  his  evening  song. 

Social  wants  are  small  and  few ; 

All  the  ladies  smoke  and  chew, 
And  do  other  things  they  ought  to  know  are  wrong. 

Presidentes  cut  no  ice, 

For  they  live  on  fish  and  rice, 
And  the  soldier  sings  his  evening  song." 

There  is  another  stanza,  but  the  song  about  the 
"Brown  Tagalog  Girl"  demands  attention : 

"  I  've  a  babay,  in  a  balay, 

Down  in  the  province  of  Rizal. 
She  's  nice  and  neat,  dainty  and  sweet ; 
She 's  ma  little  brown  Tagalog  gal." 


IN  CAMP  AND  BARRACKS.  235 

The  army  officers  and  their  families  still  form 
the  aristocracy  of  the  Philippines.  While  army 
life  is  not  all  like  Camp  Wallace  and  the  gay 
Luneta,  in  the  larger  posts  throughout  the  prov- 
inces, both  the  officers  and  soldiers  are  housed 
very  comfortably.  The  clubhouse  down  at  Zam- 
boanga  has  a  pavilion  running  out  over  the  water, 
where  the  ladies  sit  at  night,  or  where  refresh- 
ments are  served  after  the  concert  by  the  band. 
Although  their  ways  are  not  the  ways  of  the  civil- 
ian; although  to  them  the  possibilities  of  Jones's 
promotion  from  the  bottom  of  the  list  seems  of 
a  paramount  importance,  you  will  not  find  any- 
where so  loyal  and  hospitable  a  class  of  people  as 
the  army  officers.  Whatever  little  jealousies  they 
entertain  among  themselves  are  overshadowed  by 
the  fact  that  "he"  or  "she"  is  of  the  "service." 
And  the  soldiers,  rough  as  they  are,  and  slov- 
enly compared  to  the  red-coated  soldiers  of  Great 
Britain,  or  the  gray-coated  troopers  of  the  German 
army,  are  beyond  doubt  the  finest  fighting  men 
in  all  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PADRE  PEDRO,  RECOLETO  PRIEST. THE  ROUTINE 

OF  A  FRIAR  IN  THE  PHILIPPINES. 

IT  might  have  been  the  dawn  of  the  first  day 
in  Eden.  I  was  awakened  by  the  music  of  the 
birds  and  sunlight  streaming  through  the  convent 
window.  Heavily  the  broad  leaves  of  abaca 
drooped  with  the  morning  dew.  Only  the  roofs 
of  a  few  nipa  houses  could  be  seen.  The  tola- 
trees,  like  Japanese  pagodas,  stretched  their  hori- 
zontal arms  against  the  sky.  The  mountains  were 
as  fresh  and  green  as  though  a  storm  had  swept 
them  and  cleared  off  again.  They  now  seemed 
magnified  in  the  transparent  air. 

All  in  the  silence  of  the  morning  I  went  down 
to  where  the  tropical  river  glided  between  pri- 
meval banks  and  under  the  thick-plated  overhang- 
ing foliage.  The  water  was  as  placid  as  a  sheet 
of  glass.  A  spirit  of  mystery  seemed  brooding 
near.  As  yet  the  sun's  rays  had  not  penetrated 
through  the  canopy  of  leaves.  A  lonely  fisherman 
236 


PADRE  PEDRO.  237 

sat  on  the  bank  above,  lost  in  his  dreams.  Down 
by  the  ford  a  native  woman  came  to  draw  water 
in  a  bamboo  tube.  I  half  expected  her  to  place 
a  lighted  taper  on  a  tiny  float,  and  send  it  spinning 
down  the  stream,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  maidens 
on  the  sacred  river  Ganges.  In  the  silence  of  the 
morning,  in  the  heart  of  nature,  thousands  of 
miles  away  from  telegraphs  and  railroads,  where 
the  brilliant-feathered  birds  dipped  lightly  into  the 
unruffled  stream,  the  place  seemed  like  a  sanc- 
tuary, a  holy  of  holies,  pure,  immaculate,  and  un- 
defiled. 

The  padre  had  arisen  at  six.  At  his  command 
the  sacristans  ascended  the  bell-tower  and  pro- 
ceeded to  arouse  the  town.  The  padre  moved 
about  his  dark,  bare  room.  Rare  Latin  books 
were  scattered  around  the  floor.  His  richly  em- 
broidered vestments  hung  on  a  long  line.  The 
room  was  cluttered  with  the  lumber  of  old  cru- 
cifixes, broken  images  of  saints,  and  gilded  floats, 
considerably  battered,  with  the  candlesticks  awry. 
The  floor  and  the  walls  were  bare.  There  was  a 
large  box  of  provisions  in  the  corner,  filled  with 
imported  sausages  done  up  in  tinfoil,  bottles  of 


238  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

sugar,  tightly  sealed  to  keep  the  ants  from  getting 
in,  small  cakes  of  Spanish  chocolate,  bottles  of 
olives  and  of  rich  communion  wine.  Donning 
his  white  robe,  he  went  out  to  the  ante-room, 
where,  on  the  table  spread  with  a  white  napkin, 
stood  a  cup  of  chocolate  and  a  package  of  La 
Hebra  cigarettes. 

There  was  a  scamper  of  bare  feet  as  the 
whole  force  of  dirty  house-boys,  sacristans, 
and  cooks  rushed  in  to  kneel  and  kiss  the 
padre's  hand  and  to  receive  his  blessing.  When 
he  had  finished  the  thick  chocolate,  one  of  the 
boys  brought  in  a  glass  of  water,  fresh  and  spark- 
ling from  a  near-by  mountain  stream.  Then  Pa- 
dre Pedro  lighted  his  cigarette,  and  read  in  pri- 
vate for  a  little  while  before  the  morning  mass 
began.  Along  the  narrow  pathway  (for  there 
were  no  streets)  a  string  of  women  in  black  veils 
was  slowly  coming  to  the  church.  Stopping  be- 
fore the  door,  they  bowed  and  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  Then  they  went  in  and  knelt  down  on 
the  hard  tiles.  The  padre's  full  voice,  rising  and 
falling  \vith  the  chant,  flooded  the  gloomy  interior, 
where  pencils  of  sunlight  slanted  through  the 


PADRE  PEDRO.  239 

apertures  of  the  unfinished  wall,  and  fell  upon 
the  drowsy  wilderness  outside. 

Returning  from  the  mass,  the  padre  refreshed 
himself  with  a  small  glass  of  gin-and-water,  as 
his  custom  was;  nor  could  the  appeal  of  any  one 
persuade  him  to  take  more  than  a  single  glass  or 
to  take  that  at  an  earlier  or  later  hour.  The 
ancient  maestra  had  arrived — a  wrinkled  old  body 
in  a  black  dress  and  black  carpet-slippers — and 
she  knelt  down  to  touch  the  padre's  outstretched 
hand  with  her  thin,  withered  lips.  The  little 
children,  who  were  waiting  for  their  classes  to 
be  called,  all  followed  her  example,  and  before 
long,  the  monotonous  drone  of  the  recitations  left 
no  doubt  that  school  had  actually  begun.  Benches 
had  filled  up,  and  the  dusky  feet  were  swinging 
under  them  as  the  small  backs  bent  over  knotty 
problems  on  the  slates. 

The  padre,  passing  among  the  pupils,  made 
the  necessary  erasures  and  corrections,  and  oc- 
casionally gave  unasked  to  some  recalcitrant 
a  smart  snap  on  the  head.  The  morning  ses- 
sion ended  by  the  pupils  lining  up  in  a  half 
circle  around  the  battered  figure  of  a  saint — 
17 


240  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

the  altar  decorated  with  red  paper  flowers,  or 
colored  grasses  in  a  number  of  empty  beer-bot- 
tles— and,  while  the  padre  played  the  wheezy  har- 
monium, singing  their  repertoire  of  sacred  songs. 
Then,  as  the  children  departed  with  the  "Buenas 
dias,  sefior,"  visitors,  who  had  been  waiting  on 
the  stairway  with  their  presents  of  eggs,  chick- 
ens, and  bananas,  were  received. 

"Thees  man,"  the  padre  explained  to  me,  as  a 
grotesque  old  fellow  humbled  himself  before  us, 
"leeves  in  one  house  near  from  ze  shore.  He 
has  presented  me  with  some  goud  rope  to  tie  my 
horses  with  (buen  piece,  hombre),  and  he  says 
that  there  are  no  more  fishes  in  ze  sea." 

"See,  they  have  brought  so  many  breads  and 
fruits !  They  know  well  that  eet  ees  my  fast-day, 
and  that  my  custom  ees  to  eat  no  meat.  I  can  eat 
fish  or  cheecken,  but  not  fish  and  cheecken ;  eet  ees 
difficult  here  to  find  enough  food  to  sustain  ze 
life  on  days  of  fast." 

"Thees  girl,"  he  said,  "loves  me  too  much. 
She  is  my  orphan,  she  and  her  two  brothers.  I 
have  bought  one  house  for  them  near  from  ze 
church,  and,  for  the  girl,  one  sewing-machine. 


PADRE  PEDRO.  241 

Their  mother  had  been  stealed  [robbed]  of  every- 
thing, and  she  had  died  a  month  ago.  Ze  cheel- 
dren  now  have  nobody  but  me." 

She  was  a  bright  young  girl,  well-dressed  and 
plump,  although,  when  Padre  Pedro  had  received 
her,  she  was  wasted  by  the  fever,  and  near  starved 
to  death.  But  this  was  only  one  of  his  many 
charities.  He  used  to  loan  out  money  to  the 
people,  knowing  well  that  they  would  never  be 
able  to  return  it.  He  had  cured  the  sick,  and  had 
distributed  quinine  among  families  that  could  not 
have  secured  it  otherwise.  He  went  to  visit  his 
parishioners,  although  they  had  no  means  of  en- 
tertaining him.  Most  of  them  even  had  no  chairs 
for  him  to  sit  on  when  he  came,  and  they  would 
stand  around  in  such  embarrassed  silence  that 
the  padre  could  not  have  derived  much  pleasure 
from  their  company. 

At  the  padre's  "aver,  bata!"  after  the  last 
visitor  has  gone,  the  house-boys  run  in  with  the 
noon  meal.  The  padre  had  a  good  cook,  who 
understood  the  art  of  fixing  the  provisions  in 
the  Spanish  style.  I  was  surprised  at  the  re- 
sources of  the  parish ;  for  a  meal  of  ten  or  fifteen 


242  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

courses  was  the  usual  thing.  A  phalanx  of  bare- 
footed waiters  stood  in  line  to  take  the  plates 
when  we  had  finished  the  respective  courses, 
broth,  mutton  stew,  and  chicken,  and  bananas  for 
dessert.  The  padre,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  ate  with 
his  knife,  and  was  inclined  to  gobble.  Two  yel- 
low dogs  and  a  lean  cat  stood  by  to  gulp  the  mor- 
sels that  were  thrown  them  from  the  table.  When 
the  dinner  was  completed,  a  large  tumbler  of 
water  and  a  toothpick  were  brought  on.  After 
a  smoke  the  padre  took  his  customary  nap,  re- 
tiring to  the  low,  cane-bottomed  bed,  where  he 
intrenched  himself  behind  mosquito-bars. 

The  convent  was  a  rambling  building,  with 
adobe  walls.  It  was  raised  up  on  pillars  as  long 
as  telegraph  poles,  and  the  ground  floor  was  di- 
vided into  various  apartments.  There  was  the 
"calaboos,"  where  Padre  Pedro's  chickens  were 
encouraged  to  "put"  eggs.  There  were  the  stables 
for  the  padre's  ponies,  and  a  large  bamboo  stock- 
ade for  pigs  and  chickens.  The  little  friar  took 
a  lively  interest  in  this  corral,  and  he  would  feed 
his  stock  with  his  own  hand  from  the  convent 
window.  "Ze  leetle  goat,"  he  said,  "eet  ees  my 


PADRE  PEDRO.  243 

mind  to  send  to  Father  Cipriano  for  a  geeft." 
The  sucking  pig  was  being  saved  for  Easter-time, 
when  it  should  be  well  roasted  on  a  spit,  with  a 
banana  in  its  mouth.  There  were  just  sixty-seven 
chickens,  and  the  padre  used  to  count  them  every 
day  and  notice  their  peculiarities. 

During  the  afternoon  the  padre's  time  was 
taken  up  by  various  religious  duties,  and  the 
school  was  left  in  charge  of  the  old  maestra. 
There  would  be  a  funeral  service  at  the  church, 
or  a  baptism,  or  confession.  Some  days  he  would 
be  called  away  to  other  barrios  to  hear  a  last 
confession ;  but  the  distance  or  the  weather  never 
daunted  him,  and  he  would  tuck  his  gown  well 
up,  and,  followed  by  a  sacristan,  ride  merrily 
away.  On  his  return  a  cup  of  pasty  chocolate 
would  await  him.  Padre  Pedro  used  to  make 
a  certain  egg-fizz  which  was  a  refreshing  drink 
of  a  long  afternoon.  The  eggs  were  lashed  into 
a  froth  by  means  of  a  bamboo  brush  twisted  or 
rolled  between  the  palms.  The  beauty  of  this  bev- 
erage was  that  you  could  drain  the  cup,  and, 
like  the  miracle  of  loaves  and  fishes,  stir  the 
batter  up  again,  and  have  another  drink  of  the 


244  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

same  quality.  "When  Padre  Cipriano  comes 
here,"  said  the  friar,  "eet  ees  very  gay.  Ah !  Cip- 
riano, he  can  make  the  foam  come  up  three  times. 
He  knows  well  how  to  make  thees  drink." 

When  he  would  take  his  ebony  cane  and  go 
out  walking  about  sunset,  followed  by  his  yellow 
dog,  the  village  people,  young  and  old,  would 
tumble  over  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  kiss 
the  father's  hand.  He  would  mischievously  tweak 
the  noses  of  the  little  ones,  or  pat  the  tiny  girls 
upon  the  head.  The  friend  of  the  lowly,  he  had 
somehow  incensed  the  upper  ten.  But  he  had 
shown  his  nerve  one  Sunday  morning  when  he 
had  talked  down  one  of  these  braggadocios  who 
had  leveled  a  revolver  at  him  in  the  church. 

The  little  padre  was  as  brave  as  he  was 
"game."  He  was  a  fearless  rider,  and  there  were 
few .  afternoons  when  we  were  not  astride  the 
ponies,  leaping  the  streams  and  ditches  in  the 
rice-pads,  swimming  the  fords,  and  racing  along 
the  beach,  and  it  was  always  the  little  priest  that 
set  the  pace.  One  evening  he  received  a  message 
from  the  father  superior  of  that  vicinity,  old 
Padre  Jose,  living  ten  or  fifteen  miles  up  the 


PADRE)  PEDRO.  245 

road  in  an  unpacified  community.  The  notice 
was  imperative,  and  only  said  to  "come  immedi- 
ately, and  as  soon  as  possible." 

Padre  Jose  was  eighty  years  old,  and  he 
had  been  in  Mindanao  nearly  all  his  life.  He 
spoke  Viscayan  better  than  the  natives,  and 
he  understood  the  Filipinos  just  as  though 
each  one  of  them  had  been  his  child.  He 
had  been  all  around  the  island  and  among  the 
pagan  tribes  who  saw  their  spirits  in  the  trees 
and  streams.  He  had  been  back  to  Spain  just 
once,  and  he  had  frozen  his  fingers  over  there. 
As  I  remember  him,  he  was  a  dear,  grand- 
motherly old  fellow,  in  a  long  black  gown,  who 
bustled  around  so  for  us  (we  had  stopped  there 
on  a  certain  expedition),  cooking  the  eggs  him- 
self, and  cutting  the  tough  bologna,  holding  the 
glass  of  moscatel  so  lovingly  up  to  the  light  before 
he  offered  it,  that  I  almost  expected  him  to  bring 
forth  crullers,  tea,  and  elderberry  pie.  His  con- 
vent was  at  that  time  occupied  by  the  municipal 
authorities ;  and  so  he  lived  in  a  small  nipa  house 
with  his  two  dogs,  his  Latin  library,  and  the 
sacristans  who  at  night  slept  scattered  about  the 


246  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

floor.  The  local  conditions  were  unsettled  at  this 
time.  The  garrison  at  Surigao  had  been  attacked 
by  the  so-called  ladrones.  Night  messages  were 
flying  to  and  fro.  Padre  Jose's  summons 
seemed  a  harbinger  of  trouble.  But,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  Padre  Pedro  had  been  sick  for  sev- 
eral days,  he  obeyed  the  command  of  his  superior 
like  any  soldier,  and  at  midnight  saddled  the 
ponies,  tucked  a  revolver  under  his  gown,  and 
started  at  a  gallop  down  the  road.  When  he 
arrived  at  Father  Jose's  house,  nothing  serious 
was  found  to  be  the  matter.  Only  the  dear  old 
soul  was  lonesome  and  had  wanted  company. 

Often  .at  evening  we  would  sit  on  the  veranda 
till  the  evening  star  appeared — "the  star  that  the 
shepherds  know  well ;  the  precurser  of  the  moon" 
— and  then  the  angelus  would  ring,  and  Padre 
Pedro  would  stand  up  and  doff  his  cap,  and,  after 
a  moment  spent  in  silent  prayer,  "That  is  'good- 
night,' "  he  used  to  say,  and  then  we  would  go 
in  for  dinner.  Dinner  was  served  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  was  as  formal  an  affair  as  the  noon  meal. 
The  evening  would  be  spent  at  study,  for  the 
padre  was  a  scholar  of  no  mean  ability.  He  had 


PADRE  PEDRO.  247 

translated  some  of  Stockton's  stories  into  the  Vis- 
cayan  language.  Speaking  of  Stockton,  Padre 
Pedro  said  that  he  "knew  well  the  spirit  of  your 
countrymen."  His  work  was  frequently  disturbed 
by  the  muchachos  running  in  with  sums  that  they 
had  finished  on  their  slates;  but  the  padre  never 
showed  the  least  impatience  at  these  interruptions. 
Sometimes  the  "musickers"  would  come,  and, 
crowding  around  the  little  organ,  practice  the 
chants  for  some  fiesta  day.  The  principal 
"musicker"  was  a  grotesque  old  fellow,  with  enor- 
mous feet,  and  glasses  rimmed  with  tortoise-shell. 
He  looked  so  wise  when  he  was  poring  over  the 
manuscript  in  the  dim  candle-light  that  he  re- 
minded one  of  an  intelligent  gorilla.  One  of  his 
assistants,  meanwhile,  would  be  making  artificial 
flowers,  which  were  to  decorate  the  battered  floats 
to  be  used  in  the  festival  procession  on  the  mor- 
row, carried  aloft  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  men, 
sparkling  with  lighted  tapers,  while  the  bells  up  in 
the  tower  would  jangle  furiously.  Or  there  would 
be  a  conference  with  his  secretary  in  regard  to  the 
town  records,  which  that  functionary  kept  in  the 
big  book. 


248  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

One  night  the  padre  was  called  out  to  attend 
one  who,  as  was  explained  to  me,  was  bitten  by 
a  "fool"  dog.  On  entering  the  poorly-lighted 
shack,  we  found,  surrounded  by  a  gaping  crowd. 
the  victim  foaming  at  the  mouth.  He  had  in- 
deed been  bitten  by  a  "fool"  dog,  and  he  died  a 
few  hours  afterwards,  as  we  could  do  but  little  to 
relieve  his  suffering. 

We  spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening  looking 
over  the  long  mass  for  Easter  Sunday.  And  the 
padre  said  naively,  "Will  it  not  be  necessary  that 
I  take  one  beer  when  I  have  reached  this  place, 
and  then  I  can  continue  with  the  mass?"  He 
looked  back  fondly  to  the  days  when  he  had  sung 
his  part  in  the  antiphony  in  the  magnificent 
cathedral  at  Manila. 

The  town  was  always  at  the  friar's  service. 
And  no  wonder !  Had  he  not  sent  all  the  way  to 
Manila  for  a  Christmas  box  of  goodies  for  the 
schoolboys, — figs,  and  raisins,  and  preserves?  I 
caught  him  gloating  over  them  one  evening — 
when  he  gave  his  famous  supper  of  roast  kid  and 
frosted  cake  for  his  American  guests  from  the 
army  post — and  he  had  offered  us  a  taste  of  these 


PADRE  PEDRO.  249 

almost  forgotten  luxuries.  How  he  anticipated 
the  delight  he  had  in  store  for  all  the  boys !  Then 
in  the  time  of  cholera,  when  the  disease  invaded 
even  the  convent,  although  a  young  man,  Padre 
Pedro  never  left  his  post. 

The  only  time  I  ever  knew  him  to  complain 
was  when  the  people  came  in  hundreds  to  con- 
fession. The  confession-box  was  too  hot,  and 
the  breath  of  the  penitents  offensive.  "Eet  ees 
a  work  of  charity,"  he  said ;  "they  pay  me  nothing 
— nothing."  The  priest  was  only  human  when  he 
feigned  the  toothache  in  order  to  secure  a  transfer 
to  Cebu.  The  little  station  in  the  wilderness  was 
too  monotonous.  He  packed  his  effects  in  secret, 
fearing  that  the  people  would  discover  his  inten- 
tion and  detain  him.  The  father  superior  had 
granted  him  a  leave  of  absence.  His  suspicions 
had  not  been  aroused.  When  he  had  reached 
Cebu  the  freilc  would  be  under  different  au- 
thority, and  it  was  even  possible  that  he  be 
stationed  in  Manila  or  returned  to  Spain.  He 
had  not  seen  his  parents  for  ten  years,  but  his 
education  had  prepared  him  for  a  life  of  sacrifice. 
For  the  first  time  he  felt  neglected  and  forgotten. 


250  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

On  arriving  at  the  trading  port,  he  learned  that 
his  parishioners  had  found  him  out.  They  sent 
a  delegation  to  entreat  him  to  remain.  The  little 
padre's  heart  was  touched.  "They  love  me  too 
much,"  he  said,  "and  they  have  nobody  but  me." 

My  friend  the  padre  might  have  been  an  ex- 
ception to  the  general  rule.  He  was  a  "Friar  in 
the  Philippines,"  a  member  of  a  much-maligned 
religious  order.  Still  I  have  met  a  number  of 
their  priests  and  bishops,  and  have  found  them 
charming  and  delightful  men.  They  are  such 
hospitable  entertainers  that  they  have  been  fre- 
quently imposed  upon  by  traveling  Americans, 
who  take  the  convents  for  hotels,  regardless  of 
the  public  sentiment.  It  was  the  friars  of  San 
Augustin  who,  in  1565,  subdued  and  pacified  the 
Cebuanos  when  the  arms  of  Spain  availed  but 
little.  It  was  the  Freile  Pedro  de  San  Augustin, 
the  "fighting  padre,"  who,  in  1639,  defeated  the 
lake  Moros.  And,  in  1754,  a  Spanish  freile, 
Father  Ducos,  commanding  the  fleet  of  Iligan, 
defeated  the  armada  of  the  Moro  pirates,  killing 
about  a  thousand  of  these  buccaneers. 

Of  course  there  have  been  friars  good  and 


PADRE  PEDRO.  251 

bad.  But  "Father  Peter,"  though  he  might  have 
had  good  cause  to  dislike  the  Americans,  had 
always  expressed  the  greatest  admiration  for 
them.  They  were  "political"  (diplomatic)  men. 
His  mastering  the  English  language  was  a  com- 
pliment to  us  such  as  few  Spaniards  have  seen  fit 
to  pay.  He  might  have  been  narrow  in  religious 
matters,  but,  above  all,  he  was  conscientious. 
While  he  could  bathe  his  hands  or  face  in  the 
Aloran  River,  he  could  not  go  in.  His  education 
was  a  Spartan  one,  and  narrowing  in  its  influ- 
ences. All  the  society  that  he  had  ever  had  was 
that  of  a  hundred  students  with  the  same  ideals 
and  inclinations  as  his  own.  The  reputation  of 
the  friars  in  the  Philippines  has  been  depreciated 
by  the  conduct  of  the  native  priests.  There  was 
a  padre  named  Pastor,  an  arrant  coward,  and 
wholly  ignorant  and  superstitious.  Sly  old  fox, 
he  used  to  bet  his  last  cent  on  the  cock-fights, 
hiding  up  in  the  back  window  of  Don  Julian's. 
Once,  on  a  drunken  spree,  he  let  a  layman  wear 
his  gown  and  rosary.  The  natives,  showing  more 
respect  for  the  sacred  vestments  than  the  priest 
had  shown,  went  out  to  kiss  the  hand  of  him  who 


252  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

wore  the  robe.  The  work  of  the  friars  can  be 
more  appreciated  by  comparing  the  civilization  of 
the  Christian  natives  with  the  state  of  the  bar- 
barians and  pagans.  Whatever  its  defects  may  be, 
instead  of  the  head-hunters  and  the  idol-wor- 
shipers, the  Filipino  who  has  come  within  the 
influence  of  Spanish  priests,  though  often  lavish 
and  improvident,  is  neat,  polite,  and  sociable. 
But  the  friars  can  do  better  still.  If  they  would 
use  their  influence  to  abolish  the  cock-fights  Sun- 
day afternoon,  and  try  to  co-operate  more  with  the 
civil  government  in  the  matter  of  public  education, 
they  would  find  that  there  is  plenty  of  work  to  be 
done  yet.  But  some  of  the  accusations  against  the 
friars  are  unfair.  Extortion  is  a  favorite  charge 
against  them;  but  it  must  be  kept  in  mind  that 
there  are  no  pew-rents  or  voluntary  contributions, 
and  that  Spain  has  now  withdrawn  the  financial 
support  that  she  once  gave.  The  Church  must 
be  maintained  through  fees  derived  from  wed- 
dings, funerals,  and  christenings.  And  if  the 
Filipino,  in  his  passion  for  display  and  splendor, 
orders  a  too  expensive  funeral,  he  has  only  him- 
self, and  not  the  priest,  to  blame.  Indeed,  the 


PADRE  PEDRO.  253 

friars  can  derive  but  little  benefit  from  a  rich 
treasury,  because,  when  absent  from  their  par- 
ishes, they  are  allowed  to  have  no  money  of  their 
own.  All  of  the  funds  remaining  after  the  ex- 
penses of  the  Church  are  paid  must  be  sent  to  the 
general  treasury.  The  padre  in  his  convent  has 
the  use  of  the  Church  money  for  his  personal 
needs  and  charities,  but  nevertheless  he  is  ex- 
pected to  make  large  returns  each  year.  Perhaps, 
then,  after -all,  the  friars — Padre  Pedro,  anyway 
— are  not  so  black  as  they  are  painted. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

GENERAI,  RUFINO  IN  THE  MORO  COUNTRY. 
INTRODUCTION. 

THE  story  of  Rufino's  expedition  to  the  Moro 
country  in  the  summer  of  1901  reads  like  a  chap- 
ter from  Anabasis.  It  has  to  do  with  Capitan 
Isidro's  curious  experiences  as  a  hostage  in  the 
home  of  Datto  Amay  Bancurong,  at  Lake  Lanao. 
It  deals  with  the  last  chapter  in  the  history  of 
two  American  deserters,  Morgan  and  Miller, 
of  the  Fortieth  United  States  volunteers,  who, 
under  General  Rufino,  served  as  officers — soldiers 
of  fortune  in  a  lost  campaign — and  who,  as  a  last 
tribute  of  the  treachery  and  faithlessness  of  those 
they  served,  received  their  death-blows  at  the 
hands  of  Filipinos  who  had  caught  them  off  their 
guard. 

The  information  published  by  Rufino  shortly 
after  his  surrender  has  been  valuable  to  the  officers 
of  our  own  army  who  are  now  exploring  the  mys- 
254 


GENERAL  RUFINO.  255 

terious  interior  of  Mindanao.  Capitan  Isidro's 
intimacy  with  the  Moros  during  the  long  period 
of  his  captivity  should  render  his  interpretation 
of  the  character,  the  life,  and  customs  of  this 
savage  tribe  authoritative.  General  Rufino,  being 
one  of  the  last  Insurrectos  to  surrender,  has  not 
been  as  yet  rewarded  by  the  Government.  This 
fact  will  be  of  consequence  in  case  of  any  further 
outbreak  on  the  northern  coast  of  Mindanao. 
General  Rufino  lingers  still  about  the  scene  of  his 
exploit,  and  may  be  met  with  almost  any  time  in 
Oroquieta,  or,  still  better,  in  the  sullen  and  re- 
vengeful village  of  Palilan,  near  the  border  of  the 
Moro  territory. 

RULING'S   NARRATIVE. 

WE  left  Mount  Liberdad  on  June  I,  1901, 
with  eighteen  officers,  and  privates  to  the  number 
of  four  hundred  and  forty-two.  Our  destination 
was  the  town  of  Uato,  on  the  shore  of  Lake 
Lanao,  where,  in  obedience  to  our  instructions 
from  the  Filipino  junta  at  Hong  Kong,  we  were 
to  arrange  a  conference  with  the  leading  dattos 
in  regard  to  an  alliance  of  the  Filipino  and  the 
18 


256  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Moro  forces  to  conduct  a  joint  campaign  against 
the  American  army  of  invasion. 

Among  our  officers  were  two  deserters  from 
I  company  of  the  Fortieth  United  States  volun- 
teers, Morgan  and  Miller,  who  were  mere  ad- 
venturers, and  who  desired  to  clear  the  country 
and  embark  for  Africa.  Morgan  was  supposed 
to  have  been  wanted  for  some  criminal  offense 
in  the  United  States.  He  claimed  to  have  de- 
serted as  a  consequence  of  punishments  received 
by  him  which  he  considered  to  be  undeserved. 
His  comrade  Miller  followed  him;  but  I  have 
heard  that  Morgan  took  it  hard  because  his  friend 
had  followed  such  a  questionable  lead.  An  under- 
standing had  been  previously  arranged  between 
our  officers  and  Morgan,  so  that  when  the  latter 
left  the  lines  at  Oroquieta  we  received  him  and 
his  comrade  at  Aloran,  six  miles  north. 

Our  first  stop  was  to  be  at  Lintogout,  a  sta- 
tion on  the  river  by  the  same  name,  that  flows 
into  the  long  estuary  that  divides  our  country 
from  the  Moro  territory.  As  you  can  see,  our 
march  was  very  rough.  The  mountain  chain,  of 
which  Mount  Liberdad,  Mount  Rico,  and  Mount 


GENERAL  RUFINO  IN  MORO  COUNTRY 


CAPTAIN  1S1DRO  R1LLAS  WITH  THE  DATTO 


GENERA^  RUFINO.  257 

Esperenza  are  the  most  important  peaks,  is  very 
wild  and  hazardous.  A  few  miles  from  the  coast 
the  country  breaks  into  ravines  and  hills.  There 
are  no  villages;  no  depots  for  supplies.  The 
trails  are  almost  imperceptible,  and  can  be  fol- 
lowed only  by  the  most  experienced  Montesco 
guides.  Back  in  the  mountains  there  are  many 
natural  strongholds,  which  are  practically  inac- 
cessible. The  mountain  wall,  with  its  Plutonic 
canons  and  precipitous  descents,  wrapped  in  a 
chilly  fog,  continually  towered  above  us  on  the 
west. 

To  add  to  our  embarrassments,  we  were 
harassed  by  a  detachment  of  United  States  troops 
that  had  been  pursuing  us.  Their  plan  was  to 
close  in  upon  us  in  two  sections,  from  the  front 
and  rear.  Near  Lintogout  we  came  to  an  en- 
gagement with  Lieutenant  Patterson's  command. 
My  army  was  by  this  time  seriously  crippled. 
We  had  lost  one  hundred  and  forty  men  the 
previous  day  by  desertion.  The  deserting  men, 
however,  did  not  take  their  arms.  Lieutenant 
Patterson's  command  must  have  been  quite  ex- 
hausted, for  they  camped  at  night  on  a  plateau 


258  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

along  the  precipice,  where  an  attack  by  us  would 
have  been  inadvisable.  The  troops  were  new  and 
untried;  the  experience  for  them  was  something 
they  had  not  anticipated.  Yet  they  kept  at  it 
stubbornly,  slinging  their  carbines  on  their 
backs,  and  climbing  up  hand  over  hand  in 
places  where  they  had  lost  the  trail.  Their 
guides  were  evidently  somewhat  of  a  puzzle 
to  them,  as  the  Montese  idea  of  distance  is  in- 
definite. "When  I  have  finished  this  cigar  we 
will  be  there,"  they  say;  and  "poco  distancia" 
with  them  means  often  many  miles. 

We  were  not  inconvenienced  much  by  the  en- 
gagement. Our  American  lieutenants  'superin- 
tended the  construction  of  intrenchments,  back 
of  which  we  lay,  and  fired  a  volley  at  the  enemy. 
At  their  advance  our  army  scattered,  and  a  num- 
ber of  our  soldiers,  taking  inexcusable  advantage 
of  the  opportunity,  deserted.  On  the  next  day 
we  set  out,  reduced  in  numbers  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty-two.  None  of  our  men  were  killed  or 
wounded  in  the  fight. 

We  then  proceeded  overland  to  Lake  Lanao, 


GENERAL  RUFINO.  259 

the  journey  occupying  sixteen  days,  during  which 
time  the  army  had  no  rice,  but  had  to  exist  en- 
tirely on  the  native  fruits.  Our  tardiness  in  reach- 
ing Lake  Lanao  was  caused  by  two  attacks  by 
Moros,  June  i5th.  In  order  to  avoid  this  enemy 
we  made  a  detour,  coming  dangerously  near  the 
coast  at  Tucuran.  At  Tucuran  three  men  de- 
serted. Thence  our  march  led  inland  to  Bacayan, 
following  the  south  shore  of  the  lake.  Before  we 
reached  Bacayan  we  were  met  (June  2Qth  and 
3Oth)  by  Dattos  Casiang  and  Pindalonan,  with 
their  combined  forces.  Our  side  lost  two  killed, 
three  wounded  (who  were  taken  captive)  ;  and 
the  Moros,  thirteen  killed,  three  wounded.  Ar- 
riving at  Bacayan  July  ist,  we  waited  there  twelve 
days. 

Then  we  set  out  along  the  south  shore  to  Uato 
on  the  lake,  which  place  we  reached  without  en- 
gagement on  the  nineteenth  of  July.  We  stopped 
at  Uato  ten  days,  there  borrowing  $500  "Mex" 
from  Datto  Bancurong.  We  were  obliged  to 
leave  Captain  Isidro  Rillas  with  the  datto  for  se- 
curity. The  very  money  that  we  now  were  bor- 


260  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

rowing  the  Moros  had  received  from  us  for  their 
protection  during  our  campaign,  and  for  their 
promising  not  to  molest  us  all  the  time  that  we 
were  in  their  territory.  Having  loaned  us  money, 
they  now  sold  us  rice,  in  which  negotiation,  just 
as  in  the  former  one,  they  took  advantage  of  our 
helplessness.  The  deal,  however,  was  a  necessary 
one,  because  the  army  had  been  for  a  long  time 
without  funds  or  rations.  Leaving  Uato  we  pro- 
ceeded to  Liangan,  on  the  north  coast,  opposite 
Tudela  (on  the  Jolo  Sea).  We  left  the  Moro 
country  on  the  recommendation  of  the  twro  Amer- 
ican deserters,  who  had  been  dissatisfied  for  some 
time  at  the  turn  affairs  were  taking. 

We  were  attacked  the  first  day  out  of  Uato 
by  the  combined  forces  of  three  powerful  dattos, 
who  had  previously  borrowed  rifles  from  us  on 
the  pretext  of  desiring  to  kill  game.  The  engage- 
ment lasted  until  sunset.  Of  the  Moros,  ten  were 
killed  and  many  wounded.  Night  coming  on, 
the  enemy  withdrew  for  re-enforcements.  They 
returned  the  next  day  several  thousand  strong, 
and  would  have  utterly  annihilated  us  (for  we 
were  worn  by  fever  and  starvation)  had  it  not 


ISIDRO    RlLLAS.  26l 

been  for  Datto  Bandia's  advice,  which  finally  dis- 
couraged the  attack. 

We  reached  Liangan  July  3ist  with  two  hun- 
dred and  thirty-nine  men.  Here  we  purchased 
rifles  from  the  Moros,  crossed  the  bay  at  night, 
and  reached  Tudela  August  5th.  Procrastination 
on  the  part  of  the  conferring  dattos  made  a  fail- 
ure of  the  expedition.  We  had  spent  about 
$10,000  gold  for  rations,  good  will,  and  pro- 
tection. 

Morgan  and  Miller,  when  the  army  was  dis- 
banded, lived  around  Langaran  for  a  while.  One 
day  while  they  were  bathing  in  the  sea,  they  were 
cut  down  by  natives — I  do  not  know  why.  Mor- 
gan was  killed  while  arguing  with  his  assailants. 
"We  have  done  a  lot  for  you,"  he  said ;  but  those 
were  his  last  words.  Miller,  attempting  to  escape 
by  running  through  the  shallow  water,  was  pur- 
sued by  bancas  and  dispatched.  The  bodies  were 
found  later  in  a  marsh. 

CAPITAN   ISIDRO   RILLAS'S   NARRATIVE. 

I  WAS  to  have  been  educated  for  the  Church ; 
but  after  studying  for  some  time  in  Cebu  pre- 


262  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

paratory  to  a  course  at  Rome,  I  set  aside  the 
wishes  of  my  parents,  who  desired  that  I  become 
a  Jesuit,  and  took  unto  myself  a  wife. 

You  wonder,  probably,  why  we  Viscayans, 
who  are  very  peaceable,  should  have  assumed  a 
hostile  attitude  toward  the  Americans.  Of  course, 
we  do  not  really  like  the  game  of  war.  But  what 
positions  would  we  hold  among  our  own  com- 
munities if  we  were  to  be  easily  imposed  upon? 
You  would  have  thought  it  a  queer  army  that  as- 
sembled at  Mount  Liberdad  in  1901, — barefooted 
hombres,  ignorant es  from  the  rice-pads  and  the 
hemp-fields,  armed  with  cutlasses  and  bolos — for 
we  had  no  more  than  fifty  guns — undisciplined 
and  without  military  knowledge.  But  the  ap- 
pearance of  your  army  in  the  war  of  In- 
dependence caused  amusement  to  the  British 
soldiers — for  awhile?  The  Government  gen- 
erously recognized  a  number  of  the  leaders  of 
the  insurrection,  and  in  doing  so  has  not  done 
wrong.  Our  leaders  are  to-day,  among  our  peo- 
ple, what  your  patriots  are  in  your  own  land. 
And  even  you  have  no  respect  for  those  who  hid 
themselves  among  the  women  during  the  affair 


ISIDRO    RlLLAS.  263 

at  Oroquieta.  Left  alone,  we  could  soon  organize 
our  government,  our  schools,  and  army.  But, 
of  course,  conditions  render  this  impossible,  and 
so  we  think  American  protection  is  the  best. 

You  ask  for  some  account  of  my  experiences 
with  the  Moros  during  our  excursion  to  their 
territory.  Our  army  was  at  first  about  five  hun- 
dred strong,  but  nearly  half  the  men  deserted  on 
the  way.  We  had  not  counted  on  so  much  hos- 
tility among  the  Moros,  although  they  are  ancient 
enemies  of  ours,  and  until  very  recently  have 
raided  our  coast  villages  and  carried  off  our  people 
into  slavery.  But  when  we  wanted  slaves,  we 
purchased  them — young  Moros — from  their  par- 
ents at  Misamis. 

Though  our  mission  was  an  altogether 
friendly  one,  our  hosts  did  not  let  any  opportunity 
go  by  of  taking  an  unfair  advantage  of  us.  Gen- 
eral Rufino  was  obliged  to  leave  me  as  a  hostage 
at  Uato  at  the  home  of  Datto  Bancurong. 

If  we  could  have  effected  an  alliance  with  the 
Moros,  it  would  no  doubt  have  been  a  formidable 
one.  The  Moros  are  well  armed  and  expert  fight- 
ing men.  Most  of  our  weapons  have  been  pur- 


264  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

chased  from  them,  as  they  had  formerly  acquired 
a  stock  of  stolen  Spanish  guns.  Those  living  in 
the  Lake  Lanao  vicinity  must  have  about  two 
thousand  Remington  and  Mauser  guns,  besides  a 
number  of  old-fashioned  cannon,  which  are 
mounted  in  their  forts.  They  manufacture  their 
own  ammunition,  which  is  necessarily  of  an  in- 
different quality. 

We  told  the  Moros  that  they  would  all  have  to 
work  if  the  Americans  should  come.  We  knew 
that  they  were  all  slaveholders  and  ladrones;  we 
knew  that  while  they  kept  their  slaves  they  would 
not  need  to  work;  and  so  we  thought  our  argu- 
ment ought  to  appeal  to  them. 

When  I  was  left  with  Datto  Bancurong,  se- 
curity for  the  five  hundred  pesos  that  Rufino  had 
been  forced  to  borrow,  I  was  treated  with  con- 
siderable hospitality.  At  one  time  when  I  had 
the  fever,  he  secured  some  chickens  for  me, — 
they  were  very  scarce.  The  datto  had  three  wives, 
but  one  of  them  was  rather  old.  I  did  not 
notice  any  ornaments  of  gold  upon  them.  They 
wore  silver  rings  and  bracelets,  which  the  native 
jewelers  had  made.  The  women  are  industrious, 


ISIDRO  RIU.AS.  265 

and  consequently  do  most  of  the  work.  They  are 
quite  skillful  with  the  loom,  and  manufacture 
from  the  native  fabric,  ampic  (sashes)  which  their 
husbands  wear.  But  for  themselves  they  buy  a 
cheaper  fabric  from  the  Chinos,  which  they  dye 
in  brilliant  colors  and  make  into  blankets.  You 
would  probably  mistake  the  men  for  women  at 
first  sight  because  of  their  peculiar  cast  of  fea- 
tures. They  are  dressed  much  better  and  more 
picturesquely  than  the  women,  wearing  bright 
silk  turbans,  sashes  with  gay  fringe,  and  blouses 
often  fancifully  colored  and  secured  by  brass  or 
mother-of-pearl  buttons. 

The  Moro  tribes,  because  they  recognize  no 
ruler  but  the  local  datto,  are  unable  to  accom- 
plish anything  of  national  significance.  Con- 
certed action  is  with  them  impossible.  Thirty  or 
forty  villages  are  built  around  the  lake.  They  are 
so  thickly  grouped,  however,  that  one  might  as 
well  regard  them  all  as  one  metropolis.  The 
mountains  form  a  background  for  the  lake,  which 
is  located  on  a  high  plateau.  The  climate  here 
is  more  suggestive  of  a  temperate  zone  than  of 
a  place  within  four  hundred  miles  of  the  equator, 


266  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

and  the  nights  are  often  disagreeably  cold.  To 
become  a  datto  it  is  only  necessary  to  possess  a 
few  slaves,  wives,  and  carabao.  A  minor  datto 
averages  about  four  slaves,  a  dozen  head  of  cat- 
tle, and  two  wives.  He  wears  silk  clothes,  and 
occupies  the  largest  nipa  house. 

The  Moro  weapons  are  of  several  kinds, — 
the  punal  (a  wedge-bladed  knife),  the  campalon 
(a  long  broadsword),  and  the  sundang  (a  Malay 
kriss).  They  also  use  head-axes,  spears,  and 
dirks.  Being  Mohammedans,  they  show  a  fatal- 
istic bravery  in  battle.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  lose  the 
weapon  when  in  action;  consequently  it  is  tied  to 
the  hand.  Many  of  their  knives  were  made  by 
splitting  up  the  steel  rails  laid  at  Iligan.  The 
brass  work  of  the  Spanish  locomotives,  also,  was 
a  great  convenience  in  the  manufacture  of  their 
cutlery. 

Although  they  have  schools  for  the  boys,  the 
Moro  people  do  not  make  a  speciality  of  educa- 
tion. The  young  men  are  taught  from  the  Koran 
by  priests,  who  also  teach  the  art  of  making 
characters  in  Arabic.  Their  music  is  for  the  most 
part  religious,  inharmonious,  and  unmelodious. 


ISIDRO    RlLLAS.  267 

The  coluctang,  their  most  important  instrument, 
resembles  our  guitar.  They  seem  to  recognize 
three  grades  of  priests — the  emam,  the  pandita, 
and  the  sarip,  named  in  order  of  superiority. 
Their  churches  are  great,  circular  inclosures, 
made  of  nipa  and  bamboo,  with  no  attempt  at 
decoration.  Sacred  instrumental  music  is  sup- 
plied by  bells  and  drums.  The  drum  at  Uato, 
where  I  was,  being  of  extraordinary  size,  required 
two  men  to  operate  it.  Each  town  contains  a 
large  percentage  of  ladrones,  whose  influence  is 
offset  by  the  pandita  (or  elders),  three  or  five 
for  every  barrio.  These  are  the  secondary  priests, 
and  it  is  necessary  that  they  go  into  the  church 
three  times  a  day  to  pray.  At  sunrise,  at  midday, 
and  at  sunset  they  will  cry  repeatedly,  "Aldh! 
Aldh!  Bocamad  soro-la!"  (Allah  is  god;  Mo- 
hammed, prophet.)  All  the  priests  wear  bright 
robes  like  the  dattos,  but  the  clergy  is  distin- 
guished by  a  special  bangcala,  or  turban,  which  is 
ornamented  by  a  string  of  silver  rings. 

There  are  about  five  hundred  Filipinos  living 
with  the  Moros,  mostly  slaves.  Deer,  jungle- 
cock,  wild  hogs,  and  cattle  are  to  be  found  in 


268  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

the  plains  and  forests  near  the  lake.  The  soil 
is  fertile,  and  sufficient  crops  of  corn,  rice,  coffee, 
and  tobacco  may  be  raised.  Camotes  (wild  pota- 
toes), fruits,  and  cocoanuts  are  very  scarce. 

Though  many  of  the  dattos  are  disposed  to 
treat  the  Americans  as  friends,  three  in  particular 
will  entertain  a  different  attitude.  These  are 
Bayang,  Mario,  and  Taraia,  who,  among  them, 
have  control  of  many  men.  They  realize,  how- 
ever, that  the  new  invaders  will  be  harder  to  op- 
pose than  were  the  Spaniards  of  the  former  laissez 
faire  regime.  The  Filipinos  will,  of  course,  be 
glad  to  see  the  Moros  beaten  in  the  conflict  that 
is  now  inevitable. 

To  conclude  my  narrative,  we  finally  got  the 
better  of  our  hosts,  the  enemy.  The  Moros 
wanted  $1,500  in  return  for  the  $500  they  had 
loaned  Rufino.  "Then  you  must  let  the  hostage 
come  to  his  own  people,"  said  Rufino,  "so  that  he 
can  use  his  influence  among  them  and  solicit 
funds;  for  otherwise  we  will  not  ransom  him." 
The  situation  did  not  look  so  very  bright  for  me ; 
but  at  a  conference  of  the  interested  dattos  they 
reluctantly  decided  that  I  might  depart.  Eight 


ISIDRO    RlIJ,AS.  269 

Moros  were  appointed  to  accompany  me  as  a 
body-guard.  On  reaching  Iligan  it  was  requested 
that  the  post  commander  furnish  me  an  escort 
back  to  Oroquieta,  which  was  done.  The  Moros 
profited  so  much  by  our  excursion,  selling  us 
good  will  and  rice,  that  I  am  sure  they  will  for- 
give us  for  not  paying  them  the  ransom  money, 
which  is  no  more  than  the  brokerage  on  a  small 
loan. 


19 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
ALONG  THE  IUGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD. 

THE  recent  victories  achieved  by  Captain  Per- 
shing  over  the  fanatic  Moro  tribes  in  the  vicinity 
of  Lake  Lanao,  have  opened  up  for  military  oc- 
cupation a  new  territory  equal  in  fertility  and 
richness  to  the  famous  Cagayan  valley  of  Luzon. 
The  Moros  under  the  American  administration 
will  be  recognized  as  independent  tribes,  and  be 
restricted  probably  to  reservations  similar  to  those 
the  Indians  now  occupy.  This  means  that  a  great 
tract  of  land  will  some  day  be  thrown  open  for 
American  development.  The  soil  will  yield  abun- 
dant crops  of  corn,  tobacco,  coffee,  rice,  and  other 
products,  while  the  forest  wealth  appeals  to  the 
imagination.  Rubber,  sugar,  hemp,  and  copra  are 
the  natural  products  of  the  country  near  the  coast. 
The  lake  itself  is  situated  on  a  high  plateau,  with 
a  prevailing  temperate  climate.  Where  the  moun- 
tains do  not  intervene,  the  land  slopes  gradually 

down  to  the  sea. 

270 


THE  IUGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD.          271 

One  of  the  most  important  military  operations 
that  was  ever  undertaken  in  the  Philippines  was 
the  construction  of  the  Iligan-Marahui  road, 
which,  having  been  for  some  time  open  to  the 
pack-trains  and  the  heavy  traffic,  is  at  present 
nearing  its  completion.  Though  the  work  was 
planned  by  members  of  the  engineers'  corps,  all 
the  clearing,  grading,  and  the  filling-in  were  done 
by  soldiers  who  had  never  until  then  known  what 
it  meant  to  handle  pick  and  shovel.  The  younger 
officers,  who,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  were 
superintending  a  construction  job,  went  out  and 
bossed  the  gangs  as  well  as  many  an  experienced 
and  seasoned  foreman  could  have  done.  The 
soldiers,  who  deserve  no  little  credit  for  their 
work,  are  members  of  the  Twenty-eighth  and  the 
Tenth  infantries. 

It  was  about  the  last  of  January  that  I  made 
a  trip  to  Iligan,  arriving  in  a  Moro  sailboat  from 
another  port  on  the  north  coast  of  Mindanao. 
Two  or  three  army  transports,  with  the  quarantine 
flag  flying  (for  the  cholera  was  still  in  evidence), 
lay  quietly  at  anchor  in  the  bay.  Along  the  shore 
a  warm  breeze  ruffled  the  green  branches  of  the 


272  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

copra  palms.  Near  the  new  dock  a  gang  of  Moros 
were  at  work,  perspiring  in  the  hot  rays  of  the 
tropic  sun.  A  tawny  group  of  soldiers,  dressed 
in  khaki,  rested  in  the  shade  of  a  construction- 
house,  and  listened  dreamily  to  far-off  bugle 
calls. 

The  Moros  were  dressed  picturesquely  in  a 
great  variety  of  costume,  ranging  from  bright- 
colored  silk  to  dirty  corduroy.  Red  buya-juice 
was  leaking  from  the  corners  of  their  mouths. 
Their  turbans,  though  disgracefully  unclean,  were 
silk.  Their  coats  were  fastened  by  brass  military 
buttons,  and  their  sashes,  green  and  red,  with  a 
long  fringe,  were  tied  around  their  waists;  their 
trousers,  like  a  pair  of  riding  breeches,  buttoned 
up  the  side. 

While  spending  the  first  evening  at  the  club, 
I  had  seen  mingling  with  the  young  lieutenants, 
immaculate  in  their  new  olive  uniforms,  bronzed, 
mud-bespattered  officers  in  the  blue  army  shirt 
and  khaki,  with  the  Colt's  six-shooter  hanging 
from  an  ammunition  belt.  These  were  the 
strangers  from  the  town  of  white  tents  on  the 
border  of  the  woods,  At  midnight  possibly,  or 


THE  ILIGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD.          273 

even  later,  they  would  mount  their  horses  and  go 
riding  through  the  night  to  the  encampment  on 
the  hill.  The  very  next  day  one  of  the  immaculate 
lieutenants,  laying  off  the  olive  uniform,  might 
have  to  don  the  old  campaign  hat  and  the  flannel 
shirt,  and  follow  his  unshaven  comrades  up  the 
road. 

We  stretched  our  army  cots  that  night  in  the 
roulette  room  (this  is  not  a  country  of  hotels), 
and  to  the- rattle  of  the  balls  and  the  monotonous 
drone  of  the  croupier,  "  'teen  and  the  red  wins," 
dropped  off  to  sleep.  On  the  day  following  the 
Dr.  Hans  dropped  in  with  Generals  Wade  and 
Sumner,  and  the  jingle  of  the  cavalry  was  heard 
as  they  rode  out  with  mounted  escort  to  inspect 
the  operations  of  the  road.  After  a  dance  and  a 
reception  at  the  residence  of  the  commanding 
officer  in  honor  of  the  visitors,  "guard  mount," 
the  social  feature  of  the  day,  was  viewed  from  the 
pavilion  in  the  little  plaza  where  the  exercise  takes 
place.  Its  dignity  was  sadly  marred  that  even- 
ing when  a  Moro  datto,  self-important  in  an 
absurd,  overwhelming  hat,  accompanied  by  an 
obedient  old  wife  on  a  moth-eaten  Filipino  pony, 


274  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

and  a  dog,  ignoring  everybody,  jogged  along  the 
street  and  through  the  lines. 

I  walked  out  to  the  camp  next  morning  with 
Lieutenant  Harris.  Even  for  this  short  stretch 
the  road  was  not  considered  altogether  safe.  \Ye 
forded  the  small  river  just  beyond  the  cavalry 
corral,  where  an  old  Spanish  blockhouse  stands, 
and  where  a  few  old-fashioned  Spanish  cannon 
still  lie  rusting  in  the  grass.  A  Moro  fishing 
village — now  a  few  deserted  shacks  around  the 
more  pretentious -dwelling  of  the  former  datto — 
may  be  met  near  where  the  roadway  joins  the 
beach.  Pack-trains  of  army  mules,  with  their 
armed  escorts,  passed  us;  then  an  ambulance,  an 
escort  wagon,  and  a  mounted  officer. 

Two  companies  of  the  Tenth  infantry  were 
camped  in  a  small  clearing  near  the  sea.  Leaving 
the  camp,  we  went  along  the  almost  indistinguish- 
able Moro  trail  to  where  the  mighty  Agus  River 
plunges  in  a  greenish  torrent  over  an  abrupt  wall 
into  the  deep,  misty  cavern  far  below.  The  rush- 
ing of  the  waters  guided  us  in  places  where  we 
found  the  trail  inadequate.  Arriving  at  the  falls, 
we  scrambled  down  by  means  of  vines  until  we 


A  DESERTED  MORO  SHACK 


MORO  WEAPONS    Spear  and  Dirk) 


THE:  IUGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD.          275 

reached  a  narrow  shelf  near  where  the  cataract 
began  its  plunge.  Upon  the  opposite  side  an  un- 
yielding precipice  was  covered  with  a  damp  green 
coat  of  moss  and  fern.  It  took  five  seconds  for  a 
falling  stone  to  reach  the  seething  cloud  of  mist 
below. 

The  trail  back  to  the  camp  was  very  wild. 
It  led  through  jungles  of  dense  underbrush,  where 
monkeys  scolded  at  us,  and  where  wild  pigs,  with 
startled  grunts,  bolted  precipitously  for  the 
thicket.  A  deep  ravine  would  be  bridged  by  a 
fallen  tree.  The  Iligan-Marahui  road  now  pene- 
trates the  wildest  country  in  the  world,  and  the 
most  wonderful.  Turning  abruptly  from  the 
coast  about  five  miles  from  Iligan,  it  winds  among 
the  rocky  hills  through  forests  of  mahogany  and 
ebony,  through  jungles  of  rattan  and  young  bam- 
boo, and  spanning  the  swift  Agus  River  with  a 
modern  steel  bridge,  finally  connects  the  lake  and 
sea.  It  has  been  built  to  meet  the  military  road 
from  the  south  coast,  thus  making  possible,  for 
the  first  time,  communication  via  the  interior. 
The  new  roads  practically  follow  the  old  Moro 
trails. 


276  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

The  scene  at  early  morning  on  the  road  was 
one  of  great  activity.  Soon  after  reveille  the  men 
are  mustered,  armed  with  picks  and  shovels  in  the 
place  of  the  more  customary  "Krag,"  and  long 
before  the  tropic  sun  has  risen  over  the  primeval 
woods,  the  chatter  of  monkeys  and  the  crow  of 
jungle-cock  is  mingled  with  the  crash  of  trees, 
the  click  of  shovels  and  the  rumble  of  the  dump- 
cart.  The  continued  blasting  on  the  upper  road, 
near  the  "Point  of  Rocks,"  disturbs  the  colonies 
of  squawking  birds  that  dart  into  the  forest 
depths  like  flashes  of  bright  color.  As  the  land 
is  cleared  for  fifty  yards  on  either  side  in  order 
to  admit  the  sunlight  and  to  keep  the  Moros  at 
a  proper  range,  the  great  macao-trees,  with  their 
snaky,  parasitic  vines,  on  crashing  to  the  ground, 
dislodge  the  pallid  fungi  and  extraordinary  or- 
chids from  their  heavy  foliage.  Deep  cuts  into 
the  clayey  soil  sometimes  bisect  whole  galleries 
of  wonderful  white  ants,  causing  untold  conster- 
nation to  the  occupants. 

Each  squad  of  soldiers  was  protected  by  a 
guard  besides  the  officer,  who,  armed  with  a  re- 
volver, acted  as  the  overseer.  The  work  was  very 


THE  IUGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD.          277 

telling  on  the  men,  and  often  out  of  a  whole  com- 
pany not  more  than  twenty-eight  reported.  Some 
grew  as  strong  as  oxen  under  this  unusual  rou- 
tine; others  had  to  take  advantage  of  the  sick 
report.  The  soldiers  were  required  to  work  five 
hours  a  day,  and  double  time  after  a  day  of  rain. 
Considerable  Moro  labor  was  employed  on  the  last 
sections  of  the  road. 

A  unique  feature  of  the  work  was  the  erection 
of  small  bridges  made  of  solid  logs  from  the 
material  at  hand,  and  bolted  down  by  long  steel 
bars.  The  "elbow"  bridge  which  makes  a  bend 
along  the  hillside  near  the  first  camp  is  a  triumph 
in  the  engineering  line.  The  camps  were  moved 
on  as  the  work  progressed,  and  the  advance  guard 
ran  considerable  risk.  The  Moros  had  an  unex- 
pected way  of  visiting  the  scene  of  operation,  and 
admiring  it  from  certain  hiding-places  in  the 
woods.  As  they  could  hike  their  thirty  or  forty 
miles  a  day  along  the  trails,  they  often  came  much 
nearer  to  the  troops  than  was  suspected.  Sentry 
duty  was  especially  a  risky  one,  as  frequently  at 
night  the  Moros  used  to  fire  into  the  camp.  Only 
about  one  hundred  yards  along  the  trail  a  soldier, 


278  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

who  had  gone  into  the  woods  for  a  "short  cut," 
received  one  from  a  Moro  who  was  waiting  for 
him  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree. 

The  camp  at  night,  illuminated  by  the  blue 
light  of  the  stars,  the  forest  casting  inky  shadows 
on  the  ground,  seemed  like  some  strange,  mys- 
terious domain.  The  officers  around  the  tent  of 
the  commanding  officer  were  singing  songs,  ac- 
companied by  the  guitar  and  mandolin.  The  sol- 
diers also  from  a  distant  tent — it  was  their  own 
song,  and  the  tune  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me" 
— practicing  close  harmony,  began : 

"  O,  we're  camped  in  the  sand  in  a  foreign  land 

Near  the  mighty  Agus  River, 

With  the  brush  at  our  toes,  the  skeeters  at  our  nose, 
The  jimjams  and  the  fever. 

We  're  going  up  to  Lake  Lanao, 

To  the  town  they  call  Marahui ; 
When  the  road  is  built  and  the  Moros  killed, 

We  '11  none  of  us  be  sorry. 

We  're  blasting  stumps  and  grading  bumps ; 

Our  arms  and  backs  are  sore,  O ! 
We  work  all  day  just  a  dreamin'  of  our  pay, 

And  d — n  the  husky  Moro ! 

When  taps  sounded,  we  turned  in  beneath  two 
blankets  in  a  wall-tent  lighted  by  a  feeble  Ian- 


THE  IUGAN-MARAHUI  ROAD.  279 

tern.  All  night  long  the  restless  jungle  sounds, 
the  whispering  of  the  mysterious  forest,  and  the 
distant  booming  of  the  sea,  together  with  the 
measured  tread  of  the  night  sentry,  made  a  lul- 
laby which  ought  to  have  worked  wonders  with 
the  "jim-jam"  and  the  fever  patients  of  the 
Twenty-eighth. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY. 

As  IN  the  pre-Elizabethan  days  the  public 
amusements  consisted  of  performances  by  priests 
and  monks  on  scaffolding  set  up  before  the 
church,  mystery  plays,  "moralities,"  and  "mir- 
acles," religious  pageants  through  the  village 
streets, — so  in  the  Philippines,  where  they  have 
not  outlived  the  fourteenth  century,  the  Church 
plays  an  important  part  in  popular  fiestas.  The 
Christmas  holidays  are  celebrated  still  by  carol- 
singing  from  house  to  house,  and  by  the  presenta- 
tion of  the  old-time  "mystery"  by  strolling  bands 
of  actors,  with  a  wax-doll  to  represent  the  Sacred 
Child. 

Each  town,  besides  the  regular  church  holi- 
days— as  indicated  by  innumerable  red  marks  in 
the  calendar — has  a  fiesta  for  its  patron  saint, 
which  is  of  more  importance  even  than  the  "Feast 
of  Aguinaldo"  ("Aguinaldo"  is  their  word  for 
280 


THE  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY.  281 

"Christmas  present"),  which  is  held  annually  in 
December.  One  of  these  fiestas  is  announced  by 
the  ringing  of  the  church-bells — big  bells  and 
little  bells  all  turning  somersaults,  and  being 
banged  as  they  go  round.  During  the  intermis- 
sions the  municipal  band  discourses  Spanish  and 
Viscayan  music,  coming  to  the  end  with  a  tri- 
umphant bang.  Only  on  Holy  Friday  are  the 
bells  abandoned  and  tin  pans  and  bamboo  clap- 
pers, sticks  and  stones,  resorted  to  for  purposes  of 
lamentation — functions  for  which  these  instru- 
ments are  perfectly  adapted. 

People  come  in  from  far  and  near,  riding  in 
bancas  or  on  ponies,  often  spending  several 
nights  upon  the  way.  The  great  church  at  the 
morning  mass  is  crowded;  women  faint;  and,  as 
the  heat  increases,  it  becomes  a  steaming  oven. 
It  is  more  spectacular  at  vespers,  with  the  women 
kneeling  among  the  goats  and  dogs;  the  men, 
uncovered,  standing  in  the  shadows  of  the 
gallery;  the  altar  sparkling  with  a  hundred  can- 
dles; and  the  dying  sunlight  filtering  through 
mediaeval  windows.  As  the  resinous  incense  odor 
fills  the  house,  through  the  wide-open  doors  the 


282  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

sun  can  be  seen  setting  in  its  tropical  magnificence 
behind  a  grove  of  palms. 

Then  the  procession,  in  a  haze  of  dust — led 
by  the  band,  the  padre,  and  the  acolytes;  the 
sacred  relics  borne  aloft  on  floats  encircled  by 
a  blaze  of  candles;  young  men  holding  each 
other's  hands ;  children  and  old  women  following, 
holding  their  tapers  and  reciting  prayers — files 
through  the  streets  to  the  eternal  clamor  of  the 
bells. 

The  afternoon  is  given  up  to  tournaments — 
carabao  races,  pony  races,  banca  races,  cock- 
fights. Bamboo  arches,  decorated  with  red  ban- 
ners, are  erected  in  the  larger  thoroughfares,  and 
under  these  the  horsemen  ride  together  at  full 
tilt,  attempting  to  secure  upon  their  lances  the 
suspended  rings  which  are  the  favors  of  the  local 
senoritas.  On  dropping  in  at  that  volcanic  little 
town,  Mambajo,  one  hot  afternoon >  I  found  a 
goose  hung  up  upon  the  bamboo  framework 
which  became  the  property  of  the  competitor  who, 
riding  under  it  venire  a  terre,  could  seize  the 
prize,  regardless  of  the  feelings  of  the  goose. 
The  village  had  turned  out  in  holiday  attire,  as 


THE  FIUPINO  AT  PLAY.  283 

the  dense  atmosphere  of  cocoanut-oil  and  per- 
fumery proclaimed.  The  band,  in  white  pith  hel- 
mets and  new  linen  uniforms,  was  playing  under 
the  mimosa-tree.  Down  the  main  road  a  strug- 
gling crowd  of  wheelmen  came,  and  from  a  cloud 
of  dust  the  winner  of  the  mile  bicycle-race  shot 
past  the  tape.  The  difficulty  in  the  carabao  event 
was  to  stick  on  to  the  broad,  clumsy  animal,  dur- 
ing the  gallop  around  the  course.  One  of  the 
beasts,  excited  by  the  shouts,  began  to  run  amuck, 
and  cut  a  swathe  in  the  distracted  crowd  as  clean 
as  an  ungovernable  automobile  might  have  made. 
The  ringing  of  a  bell  announced  the  cock-fight 
in  the  main  beneath  the  cocoanut-trees.  It  was 
near  the  market-place,  where  venders  of  betel-nut, 
tobacco,  cigarettes,  and  tuba  squatted  on  the 
ground,  their  wares  exposed  for  sale  on  mats. 
As  the  spectators  crowded  in,  the  gatekeeper 
would  mark  their  bare  feet  with  a  red  stamp, 
indicating  that  admission  had  been  paid.  On 
booths  arranged  within  the  last  inclosure,  se- 
horitas  sold  hot  chocolate  and  raisin-cakes  and 
beer.  Tethered  to  little  stakes,  and  straining  at 
their  leashes,  the  excited  game-cocks,  the  descend- 
20 


284  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

ants  of  the  jungle-fowl,  screamed  in  exultant 
unison.  The  small  boys,  having  climbed  the 
cocoanut-palms,  clung  to  the  notches,  and  looked 
down  upon  the  scene  of  conflict. 

Little  brown  men,  squatting  around  the  birds, 
were  critically  hefting  them,  or  matching  couples 
of  them  in  preliminary  bouts,  keeping  a  good 
hold  of  their  tails.  There  was  the  wicked  little 
Moro  Bangcorong,  the  trainer  of  birds  that  never 
lost  a  fight.  There  was  Manolo,  the  Viscayan 
dandy,  who  on  recent  winnings  in  the  main,  sup- 
ported a  small  stable  of  racing  ponies  at  Cebti. 
The  person  entering  a  bird  deposits  a  certain 
amount  of  money  with  the  bank.  This  wager  is 
then  covered  by  the  smaller  bets  of  hoi  polloi. 
When  a  "dark"  bird  is  victorious,  and  the  crowd 
wins,  an  enthusiastic  yell  goes  up.  But  just  as  in 
a  public  lottery,  fortune  is  seldom  with  the  great 
majority.  As  the  bell  rings,  the  spectators  press 
close  around  the  bamboo  pit,  or  climb  to  points 
of  vantage  in  adjacent  scaffolding.  A  line  is 
drawn  in  the  damp  earth,  and  on  one  side  all  the 
money  wagered  on  the  favorite  is  arranged,  which 
must  be  balanced  by  the  coin  placed  by  opposing 


THE  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY.  285 

betters  on  the  other  side.  There  is  a  frantic  rush- 
ing around  at  the  last  moment  to  place  bets.  The 
Chinaman  waves  a  ten-peso  bill  excitedly,  and 
clamors  "buenting!  buenting!" — meaning  that  he 
puts  his  money  on  the  speckled  bird.  Somebody 
on  the  other  side  cries  out  "guingan!"  or  "green," 
and  thus  they  both  find  takers  for  their  "sapi." 
Then  the  presidente,  who  referees  the  fight,  sends 
two  policemen  to  clear  out  the  ring;  the  sheaths 
are  removed  from  the  razor-sharp  steel  spurs; 
the  two  cocks  are  held  opposite  each  other,  and  are 
simultaneously  launched  into  the  arena.  Ruffling, 
and  facing  each  other  with  their  necks  out- 
stretched, "blood  in  their  eyes,"  and  realizing  to 
the  full  extent  the  danger  of  the  situation,  they 
prepare  to  fight  it  out  to  death.  A  quick  stab,  and 
the  victim,  trembling  violently,  a  stream  of  red 
blood  trickling  down  its  leg,  drops  at  the  first 
encounter,  and  the  fight  is  over. 

While  no  record  has  been  kept  of  how  the  bets 
were  placed,  every  one  seems  to  remember,  and 
the  money  is  handed  over  honestly.  If  Filipinos 
were  as  honorable  in  all  their  dealings  as  they  are 
in  this,  they  would  be  ideal  people  to  do  business 


286  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

with;  for  although  they  will  beg  and  borrow,  or 
even  steal,  to  get  the  money  which  is  wagered  at 
these  "combats,"  they  will  never  evade  a  debt  of 
honor  thus  incurred.  Regarding  gambling  as  a 
livelihood,  or  a  profession  in  good  standing,  they 
devote  their  best  hours  to  the  study  and  the  mas- 
tery of  it.  They,  with  their  false  philosophy, 
believe  that  wealth  is  thus  produced,  and  that 
there  is  a  gain  for  every  one. 

The  list  of  fights  progresses,  some  of  the  cocks 
only  giving  up  the  struggle  after  a  last  dying  kick- 
has  been  directed  at  the  breast  of  the  antagonist, 
who,  desperately  wounded,  summons  strength  for 
one  triumphant,  but  a  rather  husky,  crow.  Some- 
times both  birds  are  taken  from  the  cockpit  dead. 
The  bird  that  loses  a  fight  through  cowardice  is 
rent  limb  from  limb  by  the  indignant  owner,  and 
is  ignominiously  hung  upon  the  bamboo  paling, — 
bird  of  ill  omen,  that  has  ruined  the  finances  of 
a  family,  mortgaged  the  house  and  carabao,  and 
plunged  its  owner  into  debt  for  the  next  year ! 

Sometimes  a  "free  for  all"  is  substituted  for 
the  dual  contest.  Eighteen  or  twenty  fighting- 
cocks  will  be  arranged  in  a  large  circle,  dropped 


THE  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY.  287 

at  the  same  time  in  the  ring,  and  set  to  work. 
Half  of  the  birds,  not  realizing  what  is  going  on, 
will  innocently  start  to  scratch  for  worms,  or  set 
out  on  a  search  for  seeds.  It  is  amusing  then  to 
see  the  astonished  look  they  give  when  suddenly 
confronted  by  a  couple  of  antagonists.  They  set- 
tle their  disputes  in  bunches  of  three  and  four, 
and  soon  the  ring  is  full  of  chickens  running  to 
get  out  of  danger,  maimed  and  crippled,  or  still 
innocently  scratching  after  worms.  There  was  a 
little  white  cock  at  the  recent  main  at  Oroquieta, 
who  avoided  every  fight  without,  however,  leav- 
ing the  arena.  The  game  old  buzzard  that  be- 
longed to  Capitan  A-Bey — a  bird  with  legs  like 
stilts  and  barren  patches  in  his  foliage — had  put 
down  every  challenger  in  turn.  Confronted  by 
two  birds  at  once,  he  seemed  to  say,  "One  side, 
old  fellow,  for  a  moment ;  will  attend  to  your  case 
later" — which  he  did.  Dizzy  and  staggering  from 
loss  of  blood,  still  "in  the  ring,"  he  sidled  up  to 
the  immaculate  white  bird  that  had  so  ingeniously 
evaded  every  fight.  It  was  a  case  of  out-and-out 
bluff.  If  the  little  bird  had  struck,  he  must  have 
won.  A  single  look,  however,  at  his  reprehensible 


288  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

antagonist  sufficed.  The  little  bird  made  a  direct 
line  for  the  gate,  while  Capitan  A-Bey's  old 
rooster,  with  defiance  in  his  look  and  voice,  was 
carried  away  in  triumph.  In  the  parade  next  day, 
where  the  competing  game-cocks  were  exhibited, 
the  "buzzard,"  though  he  was  exempt  from  tak- 
ing part  in  the  proceedings,  led  the  procession  and 
was  loudly  cheered. 

My  introduction  to  polite  society  in  Filipinia 
was  certainly  auspicious.  "Betel-Nut  Sal,"  the 
wife  of  the  constabulary  sergeant,  had  a  birthday, 
and  invited  everybody  to  the  dance  and  the  re- 
ception which  would  take  place  in  the  jail.  The 
Senorita  Tonio,  most  prominent  of  the  receiving 
ladies,  was  engaged  when  I  arrived,  in  meting 
out  gin  to  the  visitors.  Her  teeth  were  red  from 
betel-chewing,  and  a  cigarette  hung  from  the  cor- 
ner of  her  mouth.  The  orchestra,  armed  with 
guitars  and  mandolins,  had  seated  themselves 
upon  a  bench,  barefooted  with  their  legs  crossed, 
ready  to  begin.  The  insufficiency  of  partners  for 
the  ladies  had  necessitated  letting  out  most  of  the 
prisoners  on  parole.  A  certain  young  dandy  who 


THE  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY.  289 

had  been  locked  up  on  charge  of  murder,  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour.  While  he  was  dancing,  sol- 
diers with  their  Remingtons  guarded  the  door. 
I  was  induced  to  try  a  dance  with  Tonio.  The 
hum  of  music  could  be  heard  above  the  "clack- 
clack"  of  the  carpet-slippers  tapping  on  the  floor. 
Then  suddenly  the  senorita  swore  a  white  man's 
oath,  and  stopped.  Her  carpet-slipper  had  come 
off,  and  as  she  wore  no  hosiery,  the  situation  was 
indeed  embarrassing.  Our  hostess  asked  us 
twenty  times  if  everything  was  satisfactory,  and 
finally  confessed  that  she  had  spent  almost  a 
year's  income  for  the  refreshments.  "Dancee 
now;  manana,  washie,  washie." 

I  must  tell  you  of  Bernarda's  party.  "We  ex- 
pect you  for  the  eating,"  read  the  invitation,  and 
when  dinner  was  all  ready  I  was  sent  for.  Then 
we  sat  down  to  a  feast  of  roast  pork,  rice,  and 
goat-flesh,  with  a  rather  soggy  cake  for  the  des- 
sert. At  most  balls  it  is  customary  for  the  ladies 
to  be  seated  first  at  the  refreshment-table,  where 
the  most  substantial  articles  of  diet  are  boiled  ham 
with  sugar  frosting,  cakes  flavored  with  the  na- 
tive lime,  and  lemon  soda.  Like  the  coy  nun  in 


290  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

Chaucer's  "Prologue,"  she  who  is  most  elegant 
will  take  care  not  to  spill  the  ijood  upon  her  lap, 
eat  with  the  fingers,  or  spit  out  the  bones.  At 
wedding  feasts  the  gentlemen  are  given  prefer- 
ence at  the  table. 

When  the  orchestra  arrived — a  trifle  late 
after  a  six-mile  hike  through  muddy  roads 
and  over  swollen  streams — the  company  was 
more  delighted  than  a  nursery.  The  orchestra 
began  the  program  with  the  piece  entitled 
"Just  One  Girl,"  to  which  the  people  sang 
Viscayan  words.  Vivan,  the  old  clown,  in  clumsy 
commissary  shoes,  skated  around  the  floor  to  the 
amusement  of  the  whole  assembly.  The  chair- 
dance  was  announced,  and  the  most  favored  se- 
norita  occupied  a  chair  set  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  A  dozen  suitors  came  in  order,  bowing 
low,  entreating  her  not  to  reject  their  plea.  One 
after  another  they  were  thrown  down,  and  retired 
crestfallen.  But  at  last  the  right  one  came,  and 
waltzed  off  with  the  girl  triumphantly.  There 
was  a  salvo  of  applause,  the  more  intense  because 
in  this  case  an  engagement  had  been  practically 
announced.  No  native  ball  would  be  complete 


THE;  FILIPINO  AT  PLAY.  291 

without  the  symbolistic  dance  which  so  epito- 
mizes Filipino  character.  This  is  performed  by 
o  young  lady  and  her  partner  wielding  fans  and 
scented  handkerchiefs,  advancing  and  retreating 
with  all  kinds  of  coquetries. 

Long  after  midnight,  when  the  party  broke 
up  with  the  customary  horse-play,  the  accom- 
modating orchestra,  who  had  enjoyed  the  evening 
with  the  rest,  still  playing  "Just  One  Girl,"  es- 
corted the  assembly  home. 


21 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

VISCAYAN  ETHICS  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

HE  is  the  drollest  little  person  in  the  world — 
the  Filipino  of  the  southern  isles.  He  imitates 
the  sound  of  chickens  in  his  language  and  the 
nasal  "nga"  of  the  carabao.  He  talks  about  his 
chickens  and  makes  jokes  about  them.  As  he 
goes  along  the  street,  he  sings,  "Ma-ayon 
bun  tag,"  or  "Ma-ayon  hapon,"  to  the  friends  he 
meets.  This  is  his  greeting  in  the  morning  and 
the  afternoon ;  at  night,  "Ma-ayon  gabiti."  And 
instead  of  saying,  "Thank  you,"  he  will  sing, 
"Deus  mag  bayud"  (God  will  reward  you),  and 
the  answer,  also  sung,  will  be  "gehapon"  (al- 
ways)— just  as  though  it  were  no  use  to  look  for 
a  reward  upon  this  world. 

You  wonder  how  it  is  that  he  can  spend  his 
life  rooted  to  one  spot,  like  a  tree,  passing  the 
days  in  idleness.  He  is  absorbed  in  his  own 

thoughts.     If  you  should  ask  him  anything  he 
292 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  293 

would  not  hear  you;  he  is  far  away  in  his  own 
dreamland.  You  must  wake  him  up  first,  and 
then  repeat  your  question  several  times.  If  you 
should  have  instructions  for  him,  do  not  give 
them  to  him  all  at  once.  A  single  idea  at  a  time 
is  all  that  he  can  carry  in  his  head.  If  he  has 
not  been  broken  in  to  a  routine, .he  will  chase 
butterflies  upon  the  way,  influenced  ever  by  the 
passion  of  the  moment.  There  is  no  yesterday 
or  no  to-morrow  in  his  thoughts.  What  he  shall 
find  to  eat  to-morrow  never  concerns  him.  Suffi- 
cient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof. 

Many  mistakes  have  been  made  in  the  hasty 
judgment  of  the  Filipino  character.  Such  axioms 
as  "Never  trust  a  native  under  any  circum- 
stances;" "Never  expect  to  find  a  sense  of  grati- 
tude;" "Never  believe  a  word  a  native  says,"  are 
only  too  well  known  in  Filipinia.  The  Spanish 
influence  has  been  responsible  for  most  of  the  de- 
fects as  well  as  for  the  merits  of  the  native 
character.  Then,  the  peculiar  fashion  of  the 
Oriental  mind  forbids  his  reasoning  according  to 
the  Occidental  standards.  Cause  and  effect  are 
hazy  terms  to  him,  and  the  justification  of  the 


294  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

means  is  not  regarded  seriously.  His  thefts  are 
in  a  way  consistent  with  his  system  of  philosophy. 
You  are  so  rich,  and  he  so  poor.  The  Filipino 
is  at  heart  a  socialist.  But  he  does  not  steal  in- 
discriminately. If  it  is  your  money  that  he  takes, 
it  is  because  he  needs  it  to  put  up  on  the  next  cock- 
fight. If  he  selects  your  watch,  it  is  because  he 
needs  a  watch,  and  nothing  more.  The  Filipino, 
when  he  transacts  business,  has  two  scales  of 
prices, — one  for  the  natives,  and  another  for 
Americans.  He  reasons  that  because  Americans 
are  rich,  they  ought  to  pay  a  higher  price  for  what 
they  get  than  Filipinos  do.  He  would  expect  if 
he  bought  anything  from  you  that  you  would 
make  a  special  rate  for  him  regardless  of  the 
value  of  the  article  in  question.  You  would  have 
to  come  down  to  accommodate  his  pocketbook. 
The  Filipino  code  of  ethics  justifies  a  false- 
hood, especially  if  the  end  in  view  should  be  im- 
mediate. He  lies  to  save  himself  from  punish- 
ment, and  he  will  make  a  cumulative  lie,  build- 
ing it  up  from  his  imagination  until  even  the 
artistic  element  is  wanting,  and  his  lie  becomes 
a  thing  of  contradictions  and  absurdities.  When 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  295 

questioned  closely,  or  when  cross-examined,  his 
imagination  gets  beyond  control,  and  it  is  possible 
that  he  believes,  himself,  the  "fairy  tales"  he  tells. 
Fear  easily  upsets  his  calculations,  and  he  runs 
amuck.  But  he  will  not  betray  himself,  although 
he  will  deny  a  friend  three  times.  He  may  be 
in  an  agony  of  fear,  but  only  by  the  subtlest 
changes  could  it  be  detected. 

The  Spaniards,  when  they  left  out  gratitude 
from  his  curriculum,  made  up  for  the  deficiency 
by  inculcating  strict  ideals  of  discipline.  The 
Filipino  never  has  had  much  to  be  grateful  for, 
and  he  regards  a  friendly  move  suspiciously.  But 
he  admires  a  master,  and  will  humbly  yield  to  al- 
most any  kind  of  tyranny,  especially  from  one 
of  his  own  race.  The  poorer  classes  rather  like 
to  be  imposed  upon  in  the  same  way  as  the  Amer- 
icans appreciate  a  humbug. 

In  their  communities  the  presidente  is  su- 
preme in  power;  and,  like  the  king,  this  offi- 
cer can  do  no  wrong.  He  uses  his  position 
for  his  private  ends.  Why  not?  What  is  the 
use  of  being  presidente  if  it  does  not  profit  you? 
I  have  known  some  who  secured  monopolies 


296  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

on  the  hemp-trade  by  fining  all  who  did  not 
sell  their  hemp  to  them.  Others  appropriate  the 
public  funds  for  entertainment  purposes,  and 
when  an  inquiry  is  made  regarding  the  condition 
of  the  treasury,  the  magistrate  expresses  the 
greatest  surprise  on  finding  that  there  is  no  money 
left.  This  officer,  however,  whatever  his  preroga- 
tives may  be,  is  not  ambitious  that  his  term  of 
office  be  of  any  benefit.  If  he  presides  well  at 
the  cock-fights,  it  is  all  that  is  expected  of  him. 
If  he  goes  to  building  bridges  over  rivers  that 
the  horses  easily  can  wade  across,  the  people  will 
object  to  the  unnecessary  labor  and  expense.  The 
presidente  dominates  the  town.  If  he  can  bring 
about  prosperity  in  an  agreeable  way,  without 
recourse  to  sudden  means,  the  people  will  appre- 
ciate him  and  support  him,  though  they  do  not 
take  much  interest  in  'the  elections.  If  the  civil 
government  can  only  get  good  presidentes  in 
the  larger  villages,  the  problem  of  administra- 
tion will  be  solved. 

Malay  traditions  make  the  Filipino  proud, 
disdainful,  and  reserved — and  also  cruel.  Not 
only  are  the  ardent  sun  and  his  inherent  laziness 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  297 

accountable  for  his  antipathy  to  work.  It  is  be- 
neath his  dignity  to  work,  and  that  is  why  he 
takes  delight  in  being  a  public  servant  or  a  clerk. 
The  problem  of  living  is  reduced  to  simplest 
terms.  One  can  not  starve  to  death  as  long  as  the 
bananas  and  the  cocoanuts  hold  out.  The  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  last  year's  overcoat  or  straw 
hat  can  be  made  to  do,  does  not  concern  the  Fili- 
pino in  the  least.  If  he  needs  money  irresistibly, 
he  can  spend  one  day  at  work  up  in  the  moun- 
tains, making  enough  to  last  him  for  some  time. 
If  he  can  spend  his  money  so  as  to  create  a  dis- 
play, he  takes  delight  in  doing  so.  But  paying 
debts  is  as  uninteresting  as  it  is  unpopular.  The 
outward  signs  of  elegance  are  much  respected  by 
the  Filipino.  The  American,  to  live  up  to  his 
part,  must  always  be  attended  by  a  servant. 
Sometimes,  when  we  would  forget  this  adjunct, 
we  would  stop  at  some  tienda  and  propose  to 
carry  home  a  dozen  eggs  wrapped  in  a  handker- 
chief. "What!  have  you  no  house-boy?"  the 
natives  asked.  Apparently  extravagant,  they 
practice  many  petty  economies  at  home.  A  mor- 
sel of  food  or  a  bit  of  clothing  never  goes  to  waste 


298  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

in  Filipinia.     They  imitate  the  Chinaman  in  let- 
ting one  of  their  finger-nails  grow  long. 

The  Filipino  is  fastidious  and  dainty — in  his 
own  way.  He  will  shudder  at  the  uncouth  Taga- 
log  who  toasts  locusts  over  a  hot  fire  and  eats 
them,  and  that  evening  will  go  home  and  eat 
a  handful  of  damp  guinimos,  the  littlest  of  fish. 
He  takes  an  infinite  amount  of  care  of  his  white 
clothes,  and  swaggers  about  the  streets  immacu- 
late; but  just  as  soon  as  he  gets  home,  the  suit 
comes  off  and  is  reserved  for  future  exhibition 
purposes.  The  women  pay  comparatively  small 
attention  to  their  personal  adornment.  Their  hair 
is  combed  straight  back  upon  their  heads.  The 
style  of  dresses  never  undergoes  a  change.  The 
ordinary  dress  consists  of  three  important  pieces 
— the  chemise,  a  long,  white,  sleeveless  garment; 
the  camisa,  or  the  pina  bodice,  with  wide  sleeves ; 
and  the  skirt,  caught  up  on  one  side,  and  prefer- 
ably of  red  material.  A  yoke  or  scarf  of  pina 
folds  around  the  neck,  and  is  considered  indispen- 
sable by  sefioritas.  The  native  ideas  of  modesty 
are  more  or  less  false,  varying  with  the  indi- 
vidual. 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  299 

It  might  be  thought  that,  on  account  of  his 
indifferent  attitude  toward  life  and  death,  the 
Filipino  has  no  feelings  or  emotions.  He  is  a 
stoic  and  a  fatalist  by  nature,  but  an  emotion- 
alist as  well.  While  easily  affected,  the  impres- 
sions are  not  deep,  and  are  forgotten  as  they  slip 
into  the  past.  Although  controlled  by  passion, 
he  will  hold  himself  in,  maintaining  a  proud  re- 
serve, especially  in  the  presence  of  Americans. 
A  subtle  change  of  color,  a  sullen  brooding,  or 
persistent  silence,  are  his  only  outward  signs 
of  wrath.  He  will  endure  in  patience  what  an- 
other race  had  long  ago  protested  at;  but  when 
at  last  aroused  and  dominated  by  his  passions, 
he  will  throw  reserve  and  caution  to  the  winds, 
and  give  way  to  his  feelings  like  a  child ;  and  like 
a  child,  he  feels  offended  if  partiality  is  exercised 
against  him.  His  sense  of  justice  then  asserts 
itself,  and  he  resents  not  getting  his  share  of  any- 
thing. He  even  will  insist  on  being  punished  if 
he  thinks  punishment  is  due  him.  While  revenge- 
ful if  imposed  upon,  and  bitter  under  the  autoc- 
racy of  cruelty,  he  has  a  great  respect  for  firm- 
ness. And  the  Americans  would  do  well  to  re- 


300  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

member  that  in  governing  the  Filipino,  kindness 
should  be  mingled  with  strict  discipline. 

The  Filipino  can  not  be  depended  upon  for 
accurate,  reliable  information.  His  informa- 
tion is  indefinite,  as  perhaps  it  should  be  in  the 
land  of  By  and  By.  In  spite  of  his  imagina- 
tive temperament,  his  cruelty  to  animals  is  fla- 
grant. He  starves  his  dog  and  rides  his  pony 
till  the  creature's  back  is  sore.  He  shows  no 
mercy  for  the  bird  that  loses  at  the  cock-fight; 
he  will  mercilessly  tear  it  limb  from  limb.  In 
order  to  explain — not  to  excuse — this  cruelty, 
we  must  again  regard  the  Filipino  as  a  child — a 
child  of  the  toad-stabbing  age. 

A  little  learning  he  takes  seriously,  and  is 
puffed  up  by  pride  when  he  can  follow  with  his 
horny  finger  the  religious  column  in  Ang  Suga, 
spelling  the  long  words  out  laboriously.  Even 
the  boys  and  girls  who  study  English,  often  do 
so  only  to  be  "smart."  It  is  a  clever  thing  to 
spice  one's  conversation  with  an  English  word  or 
expression  here  and  there. 

Yet  the  Filipino  is  not  altogether  lazy  and  un- 
sympathetic. Often  around  his  houses  you  will 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  301 

see  a  tiny  patch  of  corn  or  a  little  garden  of  green 
vegetables.  He  makes  a  mistake  by  showing  a 
dislike  for  the  camote,  or  the  native  sweet-potato, 
which  abounds  there.  Preferring  the  unsubstan- 
tial rice  to  this  more  wholesome  product,  he 
leaves  the  sweet-potato  for  his  Chinese  and  his 
Moro  neighbors.  On  every  street  the  sour-smell- 
ing copra  (cocoanut  meat)  can  be  seen  spread 
out  upon  a  mat  to  dry.  The  cattle  are  fed  on 
the  long  rice-grass  (the  palay},  or  on  the  un- 
husked  rice  (sacatc).  A  primitive  trades-union- 
ism exists  among  the  Filipinos ;  every  trade,  such 
as  the  carpenters'  or  the  musicians',  having  its 
respective  maestro,  with  whom  arrangements  for 
the  labor  and  the  pay  are  always  made.  The  na- 
tive jewelers  are  very  clever,  fashioning  the  silver 
pesos  into  ornaments  for  bolos,  hats,  or  walking- 
sticks.  Ironmongeries,  though  primitive  in  their 
equipment,  have  produced,  by  dint  of  skill  and 
patience,  work  that  is  very  passable.  The  women 
weave  their  own  cloth  on  the  native  looms,  and 
practice  various  other  industries.  The  children 
are  well  trained  in  hospitality  and  public  man- 
ners, which  they  learn  by  rote. 


302  THE  GREAT  WHITE  TRIBE. 

While  not  original,  they  are  good  imitators, 
and  would  make  excellent  clerks,  mechanics,  car- 
penters, or  draughtsmen.  Some  of  their  devices 
rather  remind  one  of  a  small  boy's  remedy  for 
warts  or  "side-ache."  In  order  to  exterminate 
the  rats  they  introduce  young  pythons  into  the 
garrets  of  their  houses,  where  the  snake  remains 
until  his  appetite  is  satisfied  for  rodents  and  his 
finer  tastes  developed.  Usually  the  Filipino  does 
things  "wrong  side  out."  Instead  of  beckoning 
when  he  would  summon  any  one,  he  motions 
away  from  himself.  Instead  of  making  nick- 
names, such  as  Bob  or  Bill,  from  the  first  syllable, 
he  uses  the  last,  abbreviating  Balendoy  to  'Doy, 
Diega  to  a  simple  'Ga.  They  are  the  happiest  peo- 
ple in  the  world,  free  from  all  care  and  trouble. 
It  is  among  the  younger  generation  that  the  prom- 
ise lies.  The  little  ones  are  bright  and  gentle  and 
respectful — quite  unlike  the  boisterous  denizens 
of  Young  America.  The  race  is  still  back  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  but  the  progress  to  be  made 
within  the  next  few  years  will  span  the  chasm 
at  a  single  bound. 

When  I  return  to  Filipinia,  I  shall  expect  to 


VISCAYAN  ETHICS.  303 

see,  instead  of  the  brown  nipa  shacks,  bright- 
painted  American  cottages  or  bungalows  among 
the  groves  of  palm.  I  shall  expect  to  see  the 
mountain  slopes,  waving  with  green  hemp-fields, 
worked  by  the  rejuvenated  native.  Railroads 
will  penetrate  into  the  dark  interior,  connecting 
towns  and  villages  now  isolated.  The  country 
roads  will  be  well  graded  and  macadamized,  and 
bridges  will  be  built  across  the  streams.  The 
cock-fight"  will  have  given  way  to  institutions 
more  American,  and  superstition  will  have  van- 
ished with  the  medievalism.  The  hum  of  saw- 
mills will  be  heard  upon  the  borders  of  the  tim- 
ber-lands; sugar  refineries  will  be  established  near 
the  fields  of  cane;  for  Filipinia  is  still  an  unde- 
veloped paradise.  The  Great  White  Tribe  has 
many  problems  yet  to  solve ;  but  with  the  industry 
that  they  have  shown  in  other  lands,  they  can  im- 
prove, not  only  the  material  resources,  but  can 
stir  the  Filipino  from  his  dream  of  the  Dark 
Ages,  and  point  out  the  way  of  modern  progress 
and  enlightenment. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


'D  LD-UW 


Form  L9-50m-7,'54( 5990) 444 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUPOENIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A     000  578  721 


